


A Hero and His Gentleman

by Whymsical



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Space, Chubby!America, Established Relationship, F/M, First Dates, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, M/M, Post-World War II, Romance, Space Pirates, Weight Issues, collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:10:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 54,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4008826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whymsical/pseuds/Whymsical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This will be a collection of short (less than or around 5,000 words) USUK one-shots. They'll be various AUs, both human and country, and I'm not sure how many of them there'll be. But come on in and enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Criminal

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! I've decided to combine this collection into one fic because it'll just be easier for me to keep track of, and it works like that on my ff.net so it should here. Anyway, first piece!
> 
> This one-shot is a request that I did for someone on deviantArt a while back. It's a criminal AU with England and 2P America (I thought he would be more suited for the role than 1P America.) Enjoy~!

Arthur Kirkland took yet another sip of tea as he stared at the file folder sitting on his desk. The twenty-five year old Englishman had been on the police force for over four years and was considered one of the best officers there. He had thought he's seen pretty much everything the city could throw at him, but this...this was something else entirely. Arthur read the name again.

Allen Jones. Known as Al. Dark reddish-brown hair, red eyes. Sunglasses. 5' 10. 180 pounds of arrogance and evasiveness.

He had numerous charges of theft (usually auto or motorcycle) along with a few accounts of assault and battery (almost all of those were tied in with the names of other prominent criminals). He had first come to the attention of the police about six months ago, at the site of a particularly bloody and brutal beating, where a baseball bat full of rusty nails was found alongside the victim. The week after the incident, the bat was stolen right out of the evidence locker, with a note left in its place saying how it was going back to its owner. The man had been identified as Al Jones two and a half months ago, but he still evaded capture.

Arthur had been the officer placed in charge of that file, and by now the case had pretty much taken over his life. (At least he was single, so there was no one to complain or nag at him for the fact.) The Englishman had dropped all other cases and files he was working on to focus on Al Jones, but all of his efforts yielded fruitless results. Nine times Arthur had found Al's location and gone after him, and nine times the American had vanished like smoke.

The officer was left frustrated but with an even bigger conviction to catch the man. Now he was getting close to finding him again, and he'd sent some of the newer officers to check out the place of his suspicions.

"Officer Kirkland." The radio on his desk crackled to life. "Officer Kirkland, Jones has been spotted. We confirm your location. Copy."

Arthur started and tore his eyes from the papers. "I copy. Thank you. Withdraw to First Street and wait there."

Slipping the radio into its holder at his belt, Arthur closed the folder, loaded his gun, and strode purposefully from his office. It took him fifteen minutes to get to the building, an abandoned warehouse near the outskirts of town. Like the younger officers, he parked on First Street- a block away.

"You're certain he's there?" Arthur asked as he got out.

Officers Raivis and Eduard nodded. "His motorcycle's there, and the neighbours reported a figure looking like him walking around last night and early this morning." Eduard informed him.

"Looking like him?" Arthur raised an impressive eyebrow.

"Dark hair with a single strand sticking up, either dark brown or black bomber-type jacket, and a bat with what looked like nails stuck in it," Eduard read from the report in his hands.

Arthur nodded. "How many entrances?"

"Two, one main and one back."

"Right. I'm going in. One of you cover the front, the other the back. Don't actually go in unless I call."

"Arthur, are you sure you want to go in alone?"

The Englishman's eyes hardened. "I will catch him."

Eduard gave a brisk nod of his own and pulled Raivis away, vanishing around the corner. Arthur checked his gun and set off himself, in the opposite direction. He reached the entrance to the warehouse and slowed, his guard rising. After making sure the coast was clear, he entered the lot, staying by the fence and keeping his steps silent.

Sure enough, there was a big black and red motorcycle parked by one of the doors. Arthur had always thought it was stolen as well, but there were no theft reports for a motorcycle of that description. He shook a few strands of blond hair out of his eyes as he stepped ever closer, the dead grass crunching faintly beneath his boots. He made his way carefully to the door, which he managed to open without a sound, and peered in.

There was nothing.

Literally nothing. The warehouse was completely empty on the inside. It was dark too, with only sparse areas of light where the sunlight shined through small windows near the roof. The little light that did get in illuminated an empty floor, without even any old boxes or crates to mark what the warehouse had once held

 _This is where he's been?_  Arthur thought to himself.  _I find that a little hard to believe. There's nothing here._

But the motorcycle was outside, which meant that Al would have to come back for it eventually. So Arthur found himself a hidden little alcove with a view of both the interior and exterior of the building and settled down to wait. He radioed to his back up that they could relax a bit (while still keeping a sharp eye out) because it might be a long wait and then proceeded to take his own advice.

Half an hour passed, and nothing happened.

A full hour, and still nothing moved.

Suddenly, Arthur felt a presence behind him, but before he could turn or even react everything went black. He woke sometime later and found himself sitting, tied to a chair in the middle of the warehouse. As the world blurred into focus, he stared confusedly at a pile of his police gear sitting on the ground in front of him. His gun was there, but his handcuffs were missing, a mystery soon solved when he tried to move and felt cool metal pressing against his wrists.

"Eeeeey, and he's awake!"

Arthur's eyes snapped to the left at the voice and settled on a relaxed figure lounging on another chair. Emerald green bored into deep red. "You."

Al grinned, showing off his missing tooth. "Me."

"What the bloody hell are you playing at?"

"Well I saw you sittin' there on my doorstep, so I thought I'd be polite and shit and invite ya in."

Arthur scowled at him. "Release me at once. You're under arrest."

"Can't do that, Artie. And 'sides, you're not really in much of a position to make demands, hmm?" The smile twisted into more of a smirk.

"How do you know my name?"

Al lifted a card from the pile and played idly with it. "This little baby, and the fact you tossed your work aside to focus on me." The smirk grew. "That was real sweet, Artie."

"Don't call me that," Arthur snapped. "What do you want with me?"

"I wanted to meetcha, since you're so taken with me." Al winked.

Arthur felt a blush creeping up onto his cheeks. "I am not, you're merely a nuisance!"

"If I was 'merely a nuisance'," Al mimicked Arthur's accent here. "Then ya wouldn't have ignored everyone else."

Arthur's scowl deepened and he fumed silently, mind racing. All of his weapons and defense items had been stripped from him, leaving him in nothing but his clothes. Al hadn't done anything to him yet, but there was no telling about the future and if Arthur was going to get out of the situation, he would have to be smart about it.

Al was content to sit and watch him, his face never changing.

"What do you want?" Arthur finally asked.

"Already told ya."

"Bullshit, there has to be something else."

"I already got what I wanted."

"...Pardon?"

Al got up and approached him, digging around in the pocket of his jacket. He withdrew a shard of a mirror from there. There was some blood around the edges, but other than that it still functioned well.

There was a sharp intake of breath as Arthur spotted a large and distinctive red mark high up on his neck. " _What?!_ " he practically shrieked.

The American snickered.

"You little-" Arthur stopped speaking and thought for a moment. He could possibly use this to his advantage. "Why?" he asked, his tone neutral, with just a hint of curiosity in it.

Al cocked his head to the side. "Why not? You were moanin' a bit there, so you must've enjoyed it a bit," he replied, almost smugly.

Arthur caught the smugness, and it pissed him off. He had to be calculating and careful though, so he didn't let it show. "I didn't even feel it," he said instead, more reproach than anger in his voice. "I was  _out cold_  as you recall."

"Wha-" Al looked confused for a few moments, but then his red eyes widened and he grinned. "Sooooo?" he asked almost challengingly, eyes bright.

Arthur thought for a moment, weighing his options a final time in his mind. "Perhaps I'd like to feel it," he eventually said, lowering his voice. He tilted his chin down and looked up at Al from beneath his eyelashes, shifting his body slightly against the chair in an innocently hesitant yet lustfully wanting manner.

Al's eyes were still wide as his grin grew, and Arthur swore the American looked like an excited puppy in that moment. Then he composed himself and leaned forward hungrily.

The English officer had sparked an interest in him the moment Al had heard that he'd thrown away all other cases to focus on him. That event had also stirred a feeling of possessiveness in him, one that he had been closer and closer to giving in to. What had previously been a sort of a lifestyle now became a game, and all those chases had only intensified the feelings inside of him. This was the first time Al had the chance to capture Arthur, and he'd allowed that possessiveness to take over.

And here Arthur was asking for more.

Al kissed him roughly first, crashing their lips together and forcing his tongue into the smaller man's mouth. His tongue piercing clinked lightly against Arthur's teeth as he explored his mouth. His weight pressed Arthur firmly into the chair, and while the blond squirmed slightly, he didn't try to throw Al off or anything.

Arthur's tongue flicked back in retaliation as he struggled a bit to get into a comfortable position. When that was achieved he focused back on the kiss. He wasn't particularly attracted to Al sexually or romantically but he admitted to himself that Al was good, and the dark-haired criminal's apparent attraction to him helped him in this moment.

After a few seconds more Al drew back and got to work on a new hickey, this one on the other side of Arthur's neck. The Englishman's breath was hot against his upper cheek, and it only served to turn him on more. Occasionally Arthur would let out a soft moan, and Al grinned in triumph at each one. Then Arthur moaned louder than usual, which served to mask the sound of breaking bones. Al heard the faint snap, but his pleasure-clouded mind dismissed it.

But Arthur was free seconds later. He couldn't do anything about the ropes binding his ankles, but he was out of the handcuffs and that was better than nothing. His broken hand stung and burned horribly, but he'd dealt with worse pain before so he ignored it.

Once he was satisfied with the new hickey, Al moved back to kiss him full on the mouth again. He was more gentle this time, using his tongue and teeth to tease Arthur's lower lip before actually going in. Arthur used the opportunity to make his move. He ever so slowly started bringing his arms up and around. Al noticed the movement after a few seconds, but by then Arthur was moving quickly to overbalance them and send them crashing to the floor. It took a bit of maneuvering inhibited by his still-bound legs, but he managed to somewhat straddle the American while pinning his arms down with his uninjured one.

"As I said before," Arthur said, slightly out of breath but quickly regaining it. "You're under arrest."

Al looked genuinely surprised for about three seconds, but then he was smirking again. "Yer feisty. S'hot." He easily broke Arthur's grip and flipped them around, so that he was straddling the Englishman. "It was a nice try, I'll give ya that." He grabbed both of Arthur's hands in a strong grip and raised them above the blond's head.

Arthur grunted slightly and his face screwed up in pain when his broken hand was put under pressure, but he refused to make a sound.

Al noticed immediately and mentally swore. He released the injured hand and caught it back by the forearm, well away from the broken parts, his face not changing the entire time. "What to do with you?" he murmured sardonically.

"Let me go," Arthur spat out through gritted teeth, thrashing around in earnest now.

"Mmm, nope. Can't do that." Al was disappointed that Arthur didn't feel anything back for him except the desire to catch him, but that would change. The American vowed that he'd win over Arthur's heart eventually.

But for now, he had to run. Their little meeting was over. He knocked the police officer out once more and tied him up in the chair again, this time using only rope and avoiding the broken hand. He'd examined the limb and wrapped it up in a shitty makeshift bandage prior to the tying, and now he stepped back to admire his work. He tossed the handcuffs onto the pile of Arthur's things, but took out the photo of the Englishman from his wallet and slipped it into his pocket. Planting a final, gentle kiss on Arthur's lips, he turned and walked away.

* * *

Arthur came to when someone shook his shoulder. At first he expected for it to be Al again, but it was Eduard's face that swam into view. The Englishman blinked and everything became even sharper. Eduard was saying something, but it took a few seconds for the sound to register.

"...rthur? Arthur? Are you hurt anywhere? What happened?"

"Jones," Arthur replied groggily. "Where's Jones?"

"Jones is gone, he escaped. But what did he do to you? Are you hurt anywhere?" While he was speaking, Eduard expertly undid the roped binding the green-eyed blond to the chair.

As soon as he was free Arthur staggered up, wincing as his hand was suddenly set in motion. He noticed the other officer's eyes widening at it, but he waved them off. "He had me handcuffed, but I got out of it."

"And he let you bind it?"

"No..." Arthur frowned the more he thought about it. The only reasonably explanation was that Al had wrapped it up for him, but why would he have done that? Then again, why had he left the hickeys in the first place?

"...Arthur?"

"Where is he?"

"He's gone. The motorcycle is gone too." Raivis noticed Arthur's eyes darkening in anger and hurried on with his explanation. "H-He was really quiet about it- we don't know exactly what happened, but he just burst through the side of the warehouse on his motorcycle." He pointed.

Arthur followed his gesture to where a previously boarded up window had been broken through. The new light shining through illuminated the interior, and the Englishman used the opportunity to glance around for some clues. He spotted a steel ladder attached to the wall on the opposite side and by the main door. Following the rungs up he could see a small platform between two of the roof beams- an ideal hiding spot.  _No one ever looks up._  Arthur cursed softly to himself, but at least he knew where Al had been hiding.

There was nothing else to be found, so after a few more minutes the officers left- once Arthur gathered up all his equipment. Then, Eduard drove Arthur to the hospital to get his hand properly examined before dropping him off at the station. And Arthur was left once more at his desk, staring at Alfred F. Jones's record.

He reported that day's incident as well. Of all the chases, it had been the most humiliating. Not only had he been captured and bound with his own handcuffs, but he'd instigated a (passionate) kiss with a criminal. Luckily no one at the station either saw or commented on the hickeys. Not that he didn't  _enjoy_  it, but... He shook his head to clear such thoughts. He wanted to catch Al and arrest him, not shag- err, socialize with him and lose him every encounter.

So Officer Arthur Kirkland took a sip of freshly brewed tea and, ignoring that tiny spark of warmth and doubt in his chest, set out to track down Al once more.


	2. Caught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the second part to Criminal! Because I love this AU and couldn't get enough of it. Arthur gets another lead about Al and follows it.

Arthur sighed when he saw the gift on his desk. A bouquet of dark red roses in a black vase was sitting atop it, as there had been every morning for the past two weeks. By now the corner of his office was bursting with bouquets, some already dying while others still a vibrant red. Arthur's colleagues teased him about it, but he brushed their words off.

Gritting his teeth, the police officer reached out to examine today's note.  _Hey babe, I miss ya. What do you say 'bout a date? Don't worry Artie, we'll see each other soon._  Arthur shoved the note back into the bouquet and moved the vase to the corner. He knew it had been Al. It was always Al.

The encounter in the warehouse had happened a little over three weeks ago, and Arthur's wrist was healing nicely. For the first week there was nothing and the Englishman could focus on his fruitless search for the criminal, but then the flowers had started showing up. He figured it was some attempt at flirting with him, but he ignored it. He wanted to take Al Jones down out of justice, nothing more.

Once Arthur's desk was clear he sat down behind it and read through Al's file once more, as was his habit every morning in hopes of managing to find that one piece of information that would allow him to finally capture the criminal. By now he had every detail of the file memorized, though that didn't help anything. A few minutes later he raised his eyes from the paper and sighed, rubbing at them. There was nothing and it pissed him off because he knew the American was  _taunting_  him, and he couldn't do anything about it.

"Mr. Kirkland?" Eduard's voice came softly from the doorway.

"Yes?" Arthur looked up at him, and he realized he must have been glaring because the younger officer took a small step back. He softened his gaze. "What is it?"

"Jones was spotted in the park. He-"

" _What?!_ " Arthur stood and grabbed his gun, loading it. "What's going on? Tell me now."

"I was just about to, sir," Eduard said calmly, pushing his glasses farther up his nose. "He was spotted by some civilians. They said he was just sitting on a bench and fiddling with something- that he appeared to be waiting for someone. The people in the park cleared out, of course, but someone else just called to say he was still there."

"Right. This is what we do to catch him, and we  _will_  catch him today. I will go on my own at first, try and talk to him." Arthur raised a hand to stop Eduard's protests. "No, he won't hurt me- that much I know. You'll follow me shortly after,  _silently_ , with sirens off, and cover every available entrance. He must not be allowed to escape again." With that, he swept from the room.

* * *

The park wasn't too far away, and it took him about five minutes to get there in his car. He parked a block away and walked the rest of the way cautiously. The park was deserted; he walked down multiple paths until he finally spotted the American on a bench under a tree.

Al must have heard him because he glanced up and grinned. "Hey babe, finally here. You alone?"

"Don't call me that," Arthur snapped, stopping a good distance away from him. "And yes, I am alone."

"Did ya get the roses and the note?" Al asked. He slid the object he was playing with into his pocket and Arthur saw it was a photograph, but he didn't see of who. "Told ya we'd meet up soon."

"Those were entirely unnecessary," Arthur told him sharply. "I suppose I don't even have to tell you you're under arrest?"

"Aww, are we gonna go through the warehouse incident again?" In a flash Al was up and at Arthur's side, an arm slipping around the Englishman's waist while the other hand expertly slid the gun out and tossed it out of reach. "Artie..." he purred.

Arthur had stepped back a bit, astounded by the criminal's speed, but now he froze upon feeling Al's breath ghost across the back of his neck. "U-Unhand me this instant," he demanded, his own breath shuddering as he felt Al's warm lips press against his cheek. "I could have sexual assault tacked on to your list of offenses."

"Mmm..." Al suddenly spun him around and peered deep into his eyes. After a few moments of Arthur's increasing fidgeting, he leaned down to kiss him firmly, but gently, his hands moving to Arthur's back as support. When he pulled away, he was grinning. "Nah you can't, cuz you like it," he said confidently.

Arthur narrowed his eyes and stared at Al with shock. Sure his body reacted to it, and he didn't quite mind the feeling, it was so absolutely  _incredible_ , but that didn't mean he liked it. Did it? "I-I could still tell them it was, not that you need anything to help your case."

Al's grin widened almost lecherously and he leaned on Arthur a bit more. "So ya do like me!" he crowed, victory bells ringing in his head. "Was it the roses? The pick-up lines?"

"Stop that!" Arthur tried to move away from him, to no avail. "I don't like you, you're nothing but a common criminal!" he snapped.

A flash of hurt swept through Al's eyes, though it was quickly masked by anger. His grip on Arthur tightened until the Englishman thought he was going to break something. Then he abruptly let go, shoving Arthur away. "Just a common fucking criminal, yeah?" he growled, moving back to the bench to pick up his bat. "Maybe I should treat you like a common criminal fucking would?"

Arthur stared up at him in horror, body frozen. He couldn't move, couldn't do anything, as Al advanced on him. He regretted his earlier words, having seen the flash of hurt, but right now he was more concerned about the approaching man. "A-Al-"

The bat slammed into the ground about a foot from Arthur's head. Al felt slightly bad seeing the man flinch, but his anger overrode everything else. He had been so excited that Arthur felt _something_  for him, and then he'd gone and said that. "Have fun with your chase, Officer," he sneered, moving away. Even in his angered state he couldn't bring himself to hurt Arthur.

The Englishman just lay on the ground, shell-shocked, and watched the criminal walk away. He didn't know if the others had arrived yet, but there was literally nothing he could do now to buy anymore time. His body gradually relaxed and he sat up, eyes fixed on the hole next to him. For a moment, Arthur had felt sure he was going to die there.

"Arthur, we got him," Eduard's voice came over the radio, startling Arthur out of his thoughts. "We have Jones. We're taking him to the station. Are you okay there?"

Arthur scrambled to get his radio. "I'm fine. You have him? You really have him?"

"Yup. Congratulations, Officer."

"Finally..." Arthur breathed, looking down at the silent radio in his lap. He felt as though a great weight had lifted from his shoulders. Then he recalled the red eyes, bright with hurt for a moment, and another weight settled over him, this one perhaps even worse.

But he had a prisoner to see to. Brushing aside his previous thoughts he stood and walked out of the park. At the station he was congratulated by all the other officers currently in the room; they all knew how long he'd been on the case. By the time he made his way down to the holding cells Al had been searched and put in one of them.

"Uhh, Arthur?" Eduard stopped him before he actually entered to see the American. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Yes, what's wrong?" Arthur frowned slightly.

Eduard led him to the evidence room. He rummaged around the bag with Al's name on it and eventually withdrew what looked like a slip of paper. "He had this."

"What is it?" Arthur took it and was shocked to find his own face staring back at him. "That's the- the missing photograph...  _What?_ "

"It was in his pocket. No one else knows about it, but why-"

"I don't know," Arthur said sharply. His hand closed around the photograph and he turned away. "No one  _will_  know about this, yes?"

"No, not if you don't want anyone to know," Eduard promised.

"Good. He's in the holding cells?" At Eduard's nod he swept to the corridor with the cells. Al was in the last cell on the left, lounging on the little bed in the corner. "What the hell is this?" he asked, showing Al the photograph.

Al looked up and grinned lazily, though it was a bitter smile. "You lied, Artie. You weren't alone."

"I was alone when I came," Arthur snapped back. "But what is this?" He thrust the photograph through the bars in rage so Al could better see it. "Answer me, Jones."

In a flash Al was up and had snatched the photo back, moving too fast for the officer to react. When he had the photo he moved back to the bed. "Are ya really surprised, babe?" He planted a kiss on the surface of the photo, right were Arthur's lips would be.

"Oi!" Arthur automatically reached after him, but it was too late. He averted his eyes at the obscene gesture. "S-Stop that, you're defiling it!"

"What, you jealous?" Al lifted his head and grinned again, looking more like himself that time. "I can easily fix that."

"I am not," Arthur replied instantly, glaring. "Why did you have it in the first place?"

"You're hot," Al said, shrugging easily. "And sexy. I got a thing for hot British police guys. Anyone ever tell you yer ass looks hella fine in those pants?"

"I'm English," Arthur muttered, cheeks flaming from Al's words.

Al slipped the photograph into his pocket and rose again, walking over to the bars. "Hey, c'mon." He reached out when Arthur backed away again. "Lemme show you what I can really do."

"Al, I..." Arthur was tempted. The part of him attracted to the criminal was  _so_  tempted. "I can't I am an officer, and you are a prisoner to be put on trial."

"You called me Al..."

"What?"

"Usually you call me 'Jones'," Al said, his voice oddly soft. "Look, can't ya fulfill a dead man's wish? Kinda like the last meal shit, but I wanna kiss you. Reeeaally kiss you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Arthur asked incredulously. "You aren't dead."

"I ain't stupid, Artie." Al shrugged noncommittally. "I fucked a lot of shit up. I was young...er, and pissed off. I know my crimes, and so do you. Break-ins, vandalism, stealing shit, killing- sure, those fuckers were scum and annoying as hell and better off pushin' fucking daisies, but the jury won't give a flying fuck. They're probably gonna kill me off, say it's what I deserve, that prison's too good for me. So c'mon."

Arthur looked at him, thinking hard. He did know Al's crimes- he practically had the dates and all the gruesome details memorized. "No, A- Jones." He turned and walked away.

* * *

Later that night Al was laying on his bed and just about to doze off when there were footsteps heard down the hall, and they were coming closer. He opened his eyes to see a familiar figure pause outside his cell. "...Artie?"

"Get over here you absolute sodding devil," Arthur hissed at him.

"What?" Al stood up hesitantly and walked over to him.

Once he was in reach, Arthur yanked him forward and crashed their lips together. He felt the American stiffen against him at first, but an instant later he had relaxed and was pressing back against the officer eagerly. His tongue darted out and swept across Arthur's lips, nudging them open. The piercing felt just as alien to the officer as the first time they had kissed.

Al eagerly explored Arthur's mouth. It tasted as good as the list time, like he remembered it to be. He felt Arthur's tongue flitting against his own in response to his movements, concentrated upon the little ball. He smirked into the kiss when he realized the officer was heavily interested in it, and he reached his hands through the bars to tangle his fingers gently into Arthur's hair.

Eventually the need for air broke them apart, though they stayed close to each other, their foreheads almost touching. Panting slightly, Arthur looked at Al and was somewhat surprised to see pure, raw happiness in the criminal's eyes. He sensed that it wasn't a frequent emotion to cross Al's face and sure enough, even as he was looking, most of the rawness was hidden by his usually cocky mask.

"So," Al breathed, grinning broadly. "Did my  _devilish_  body send ya running back?"

"No, idiot. I couldn't very well kiss a prisoner with the cameras pointed at us," Arthur muttered, his cheeks reddening slightly.

"What's different about now?"

"The camera's on loop."

Al's grin widened. "Oooh, you bein' a  _bad boy_ , ain't ya?"

"Shut up."

"Shut me up then," Al challenged. "Otherwise I'll just keep talk-mmph."

Arthur had leaned forward and pressed his lips against Al's, effectively shutting him up. He felt Al try to deepen it and then pulled back. "Would you like to know your fate?"

"My fate?" Al burst out laughing. "You sound like a wizard or some shit." Almost absentmindedly, he started stroking Arthur's hair.

"I mean what's going to happen to you." Arthur rolled his eyes but leaned into the touch.

"Yeah, sure. You know it?"

"Yes. The county jail is full and they don't have a cell for you at the moment, so you're staying here until your trial," Arthur explained. "The trial will be in three days, and I've been assigned to be your guard. After that...whatever the court decided will come to pass."

"They're gonna kill me."

"You don't know that, Jones. They might give you a life sentence," Arthur reasoned, the coming trial suddenly much more frightening than it had been before.

"Nah." Al gently shook his head. "They'll kill me. You'll see." He saw pain and fear minutely appearing in Arthur's eyes and he chuckled. "So ya do care, huh?"

"I told you; you're a devil. You've made me at least care for you, you utter bastard," Arthur muttered, tilting his head down to hide his red cheeks.

Al's fingers tightened in his hair, keeping his head in place, and one of his hands slipped down to cup Arthur's chin and turn his head back up. The soft, pure expression was back on his face, and he pressed a kiss to Arthur's nose. "Finally..." he breathed. "But they're still gonna kill me."

"Well what do you want me to do about it?" Arthur asked, wrinkling his nose slightly during the kiss. "I can't very well appeal for your innocence."

"I can be a real fucking romantic, you know," Al suddenly said. "As cheesy as ya want. Flowers, chocolates, romantic dates, the whole shebang," he whispered, staring deep into Arthur's eyes. "Whatever you want."

"Why are you telling me this?" Arthur had a sinking feeling Al was going to propose some sort of crazy scheme, and the feeling deepened when he realized there was a good chance he would go along with it.

"If they decide to kill me, you're gonna have to be the one to do it," Al said, his mind racing with different plots and plans.

"What?" Arthur tried leaning back again.

"Yeah." Al quickly kissed him to calm him down. "I'm gonna choose a shooting, and then you're gonna stand up and say you wanna do it," he explained.

"But why me?"

Al grinned wickedly. "Because you can't. You  _can't_  kill me."

"You don't know that," Arthur shot back at him.

"Yeah I do. Look at me right now, and tell me you could kill me."

The English officer looked at him. Al was staring back, eyes wide- not quite innocent but not devious either- and a half smile on his face. Arthur stared for a long time, until finally he sighed and leaned forward to kiss him. "No, I can't," he mumbled into it.

Al kissed back eagerly, and he was smirking triumphantly. "Exactly. Then ya fake my death, sneak me out, and I crash with you."

"It... It won't work, Jones. There-"

"Al."

"What?"

"Please call me Al," the American said.

"All right. Al, then. But still, there's so much that could go wrong. So much still to discuss. Not to mention I'll be harboring a criminal once this is over,  _if_  it works."

"Hey. Hey babe, don't worry." Al stroked Arthur's cheek. "I'll think of it, don't you worry. We still got a few days, right?"

"Yes..."

"See? It'll be fine. As you know, I'm an ace at getting away."

"Indeed I do know," Arthur muttered, shooting him a soft glare. He pulled away slightly, and lifted a hand to place it over Al's. "I can't imagine you all of a sudden turning into a perfect little angel if this does work."

Al snorted. "Nah. Imma devil, remember?" He lifted his hand away from the Englishman's hair and instead gripped Arthur's hand, lacing their fingers together. "Doesn't mean I gotta screw around though."

"Really now."

"Yeah." Al squeezed Arthur's hand lightly, running a thumb over his wrist. He was glad to see it healing nicely. "Call me a sap, but I think I love you. If you get me outta here, I'll be quiet as a mouse. I'd just be happy to live with you in peace.

Arthur blinked and his mouth opened a bit in surprise. "That's...sweet, love." He squeezed Al's hand back, glancing down the corridor. "I have to go now, it's late and I shouldn't be here. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sure, babe." Al looked up at him with half-lidded eyes and a smirk. "Do I get a good night kiss, Officer?" he asked innocently.

"You're impossible." Arthur rolled his eyes but leaned in to give him a short but sweet kiss. He then pulled away from the bars and stepped back. "Good night."

"Night, Artie! You'll see, by tomorrow evening I'll have it all planned out," Al said confidently, sauntering back to his bed and laying down.

"I hope so. Good bye." Arthur walked back to his office, gathered up his things, and left the station. It was the simplest thing to distract the security guard at the door so he could unloop the cameras.

* * *

The days to the trial passed by in a flurry. Arthur was immersed back into the flurry of his normal work now that Al was behind bars, though he did stay and talk with him a little during meal times. True to his word the second night Al explained his plan, and the third night was spent convincing the officer to do it after he stormed out immediately after hearing it. Eventually he agreed to do it, but only because the trial was looming over them and there were no other options, except of course Arthur leaving Al to his sentence (which of course he wouldn't do now that he'd accepted his attraction and caringness for the man).

The trial passed quickly and exactly as Al had said it would. The evidence and testimonies were given, and Al pled guilty. To anyone on the outside it would seem that he was taking credit for his deeds with apparent satisfaction, but both Al and Arthur knew that he was just going according to the plan. After a very short discussion he was indeed found guilty and sentenced to death. Normally people would more be sentenced to incrimination for life, but Al's crimes were so numerous and some so gruesome that the jury decided it would be better to kill him. To protect the greater good of the people, they said, for there was the risk he might escape and continue with his actions. And then it was Arthur's turn to stand.

Biting back the bile in his throat, Arthur rose from his seat and cleared his throat.

The judge looked at him. "Yes, Mr. Kirkland? Do you have anything to add?"

"I would like to request to be the one to carry out Mr. Jones's sentence."

"Why is that?" the judge asked as the rest of the jury murmured amongst themselves.

"Your Honor," Arthur forced out. "I've been chasing this man for months. If I could, I'd like to be the one to finish the job completely."

There was a moment of quiet discussion and then they agreed. Al was quickly taken away back to the cells, and Arthur steeled himself for what was to come. The execution date was set for the day after the trial, and Arthur grew nervous as the hour approached. He visited Al again that night, looping the camera once more.

"I don't like this," he muttered as Al caressed his wrist through the bars. "The situation, the risks, what you've done to me-"

"What I did to you?"

"Yes." Arthur glared. "Me, a distinguished officer, helping a  _criminal_ , and all because he bloody charmed his way into my life."

Al laughed. "So I win in the end, eh?"

"Don't remind me, or I might reconsider."

"You wouldn't," Al said confidently, pulling Arthur towards himself for a kiss. When he pulled away he grinned again.

Arthur rolled his eyes at him. "You're lucky I fell for you, Jones," he said sharply. "Now, are you absolutely sure this will work?"

"Babe, babe, don't worry. As long as you do what I told you to, it'll all work out fine."

"And you're sure I have to..."

"Yeah. But don't worry, I can take it. Now get goin' Artie, you gotta be nice and rested for tomorrow." He ran a thumb across Arthur's cheek and then moved away, back to the bed.

The final meal was over with (Al had chosen a simple Caesar salad) and Al was led down to the chamber. He was forced into a black chair and left alone, his only restraints being handcuffs on his wrists. A few floors above him, Arthur was receiving the gun. There was only one bullet, and his superior officer gave the Englishman a brief lecture about what would happen if he were to miss. Arthur assured him he wouldn't, and he was sent down with a nod.

Upon entering, he marched up to Al and lifted the American's chin with his fingers, forcing Al to look up at him. "You're done, Jones," he said, his voice smug. At the same time, unseen, his other hand shot a small injection into the criminal's bloodstream.

Al just grinned, expertly masking his response to the small prick. "Ya know you're gonna miss it, Officer," he purred.

"Not bloody likely," Arthur snapped.

Scowling, he moved away and withdrew the gun. Lifting it so the barrel was pointed at Al's chest, he stared. Al was looking back at him, his red eyes right on Arthur's. The smile was mostly gone from his face, except for the slightest curve of his lips, and his gaze was warm. The officer felt his own scowl lessening, until he was almost smiling as well. Once again, he was struck by the thought that he'd never have been able to kill him. Arthur took a deep breath, aimed, exhaled, and shot.

Al slumped backwards a bit, and Arthur lowered his arm. Moments later, a few other officers burst into the room. They pronounced Al dead, congratulated Arthur, and moved the body away. A doctor performed a quick examination and confirmed the means of Al's death, then he was zipped up in a body bag and carted off to the funeral home.

Arthur accompanied them in the back of the van, and along the way switched out Al's bag for one he had prepared and stowed away beforehand. The bag was dropped off, and the matter was done with. The cheapest burial was simply placing the bag in a plain wooden coffin and burying it. The undertaker wouldn't even look inside of it. Arthur was given the rest of the day off if he needed it for what he had done, and he took the offer.

When there was no one around a few minutes later he went back to the van to transfer Al's body to his own squad car. He didn't have much time left before Al really died, so he quickly gave him the reverse injection and covered him up with a fire blanket he had nicked (he really was becoming a model police officer, wasn't he?).

He got home within ten minutes. After he carried Al up to his apartment as carefully and smoothly as he could manage, he utilized his fair amount of medical training, some books, and the internet to get the bullet out of him. It wasn't the best thing to do, he knew, but Al was a supposedly dead criminal so him showing up at a hospital now wouldn't be a good idea. After bandaging him up, there was nothing he could do but sit and wait until Al hopefully woke up.

* * *

A few months later, Arthur entered his apartment exhausted, and he slumped against the door after he locked it. A few seconds later a pair of arms wrapped around his waist, and he felt warm lips on his neck. He leaned into the embrace.

"How do you feel?" he asked softly. "You still shouldn't be up."

"I was bored, and besides, I barely feel it anymore," Al replied, his lips moving up to graze Arthur's ear. "You're tired," he noted, pulling the blond away from the door and to their bedroom.

"I had to finish up some reports." Arthur was practically falling asleep, and he allowed Al to undress him with little resistance.

By now the fuss about Al had long died down. The first weeks after Al had woken and started recovering had been the most tense for Arthur. He was afraid that at any time someone would burst in and find the American and take the both of them away. But he needn't have worried, for Al was a master at staying hidden. Arthur knew himself from the long months spent chasing him, and over time his paranoia lessened slightly.

Police work became harder for him. Falling in love with a criminal had given him a different perspective (especially after Al had told him all the motives for his own crimes), one that made him softer in some aspects, more forgiving. In any case, he was less enthusiastic about cases, and often snappy. He just didn't feel the city atmosphere was good for him anymore and he slowly started to search for jobs in quieter places. He searched harder when he caught Al sneaking out.

He knew the American was bored from having to stay in all the time. One night when he woke to get a drink, Al was gone. Arthur panicked, thinking he had been taken, and he was almost out the door off to search for him when Al entered through the fire escape. After giving a long lecture Arthur calmed down enough for Al to explain that he was just walking around and that he was perfectly fine. Eventually, they retired to bed, Arthur curled around Al tightly.

"We're moving," Arthur announced a few days later.

"What?"

"To England. I've found a job in a small village- well, relatively small- where they were looking for a new police officer."

Al looked up from what he was doing. "Why?"

"We can't stay here! You can't very well live the rest of your life cooped up in here, only sneaking out at night- which I do not condone, by the way," Arthur replied.

"You'd be willing to move all the way back to England for me?" Al grinned and kissed his cheek. "Aww, that's sweet, Artie!"

"I-Idiot, it's not only for you." Arthur looked away. "I need to get away from the city life; it's a bit much for me now. Besides, I'm  _from_ England- it's not that big a problem to go back."

"So how will we get there? I can't really travel on commercial flights. You got a plan?"

Arthur hesitated. "No. But I'll figure something out."

"No need," Al told him, grinning again. "I'll take care of it. But you gotta get there legally."

"Wow. Who would have thought, Al Jones, an advocate for legality," Arthur said, smirking.

Al chuckled. "Yeah, but you're into that kind of stuff,  _Officer_."

"Oi, hush up, you," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "But all right. We have to both leave within the month, though."

"No problem, babe," Al assured him.

And true to his word, about a week later, the American had a way. His brother Matt in Canada had a small private plane that he used to deliver lumber sometimes, and he'd be able to fly him either to England or France, depending on the situation. From there, his friends would get him safely to where Arthur was. Arthur expressed some concerns over this plan, but Al assured him it would work and it was the best thing to do.

"All right," Arthur finally said. "I trust you."

"Hell yeah!" Al grinned broadly. "Can we go have awesome victory sex now?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but agreed. And the next morning, the two started packing for their new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this a probable ending? Not really. Do I care? Not really. It's fanfiction. I've read weirder stuff. XD
> 
> Sorry if I got any of the judicial processes wrong.
> 
> Okay, so to explain the way Arthur busted him out. Let's pretend there's this shot-injection-formula thing that stops someone's heart for about five minutes (why they pronounced Al dead- his heard was stopped when they tried taking his pulse), and then starts it back up again, but slows it down so the blood flows more slowly- which is how Al survived getting shot in the chest. And no, Arthur did not shoot him in the heart. It was more of under and to the side of the heart, so he could avoid hitting any vital organs (let's pretend this makes sense, anatomically...).


	3. War-Torn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was end of WWII USUK with them as countries.

It was finally over.

After 2175 days of horror and pain, World War II had finally drawn to a close on all fronts. There were still soldiers to recall, treaties to sign, meetings to go to, and a million other things to take care of, but all America had on his mind was making sure England was all right.

He trotted purposefully through the streets of London, trying to ignore all of the damage around him and not thinking about the effects it would have on the smaller island nation's body. Luckily his feet knew the way to England's house, so he didn't have to look around that much.

His heart began to flutter faster as he approached the familiar door. After the war he was slightly thinner and more tired and more ragged, and the fighting hadn't even reached his shores that much. England, who'd been bombed almost constantly at one point during that horrible summer and autumn*... He had looked extremely worn down at the last meeting, and who knew if things had gotten worse between then and now? America had been focused on defeating Japan, but he hoped England was looking and feeling better.

Though he wanted to burst in and run straight to England, America thought he'd be polite for once and just knock. He did just that and then waited, his foot tapping a fast rhythm into the front steps.

Footsteps were heard, starting out faintly and then getting louder, before the door unlocked and England peered out. "America?"

America stared.

England was beyond thin. He looked to be just skin and bones. His uniform looked much too big for him, and dirt and sweat and blood had seemingly rubbed permanently into his skin, though there wasn't as much as a few weeks ago. At least his bandages were clean. Dark, prominent circles were etched under his eyes. But his eyes, England's emerald eyes, were still alight with fire. There was a determined set to his jaw and a little frown of concentration between his dark fuzzy eyebrows.

"Hey England," America finally managed to get out, his voice cracking lightly at the beginning. "We won."

"So I've heard," England replied quickly, wryly. "But oh, where are my manners? Do come in." He moved away from the door.

Again, America was struck my how weakened the other nation looked. He knew though, that while England might look as if he were about to collapse, there was still a lot of fight left in him. "Thanks."

He tried to look around as discreetly as he could as England led the way to the sitting room. All of the room seemed darker somehow, and emptier. It could have been because some of England's possessions were missing, but it was also just a general  _feeling_  of emptiness. England really had gotten hit much harder than him, and it was startlingly obvious.

"America." England's voice cut through his thoughts.

"H-Huh?" America jumped slightly. "Sorry, what?"

"I asked if you would like something to drink."

"O-Oh. Yeah, sure." America gave him a small smile of apology for zoning out.

England nodded and left, leaving America alone with his thoughts for a few more minutes. Then he was back, placing a teacup down in front of the larger nation.

"Thanks, England." America raised the cup to his lips to take a sip when suddenly he froze. "England, where's your cup?"

England averted his eyes slightly and shifted on the couch. "I still have a slight shortage because of the rationing," he said lowly.

America gently placed the teacup down and slid it across the table to him.

"What are you doing?" England watched him with confusion in his eyes.

"You like tea more," America replied simply with a smile.

"But you're my guest. I can't accept that. It's your tea," England said stubbornly. He pushed the cup back over to America.

"But if you don't have enough, then  _you_  should drink it." America moved the teacup across the table again. "I can get some water or coffee back at the embassy."

"You're my guest," England repeated. "It's for...you."

This time when England had shifted the teacup, America caught his hand with his own larger one and held it there. He ever so gently wrapped England's fingers around the outside of the cup and then squeezed, tightening their grip. "Take the tea, England. The hero prefers coffee anyway!" America said with a broad grin and a loud laugh. Both didn't seem like they belonged in the somber room, but the American ignored the fact.

England drew back with a faint blush and a 'tch', but he knew what America was trying to do and appreciated it. He took the teacup with him and sipped at the cooling liquid.

America grinned at him, but it was more relaxed and real this time. After a moment, it faded away. "How are you, England?"

"I'm fine," Came the automatic reply.

"I mean it."

England regarded him seriously. "The war was hard and exhausting, but I'll survive and recover. My people are strong."

"Keep calm and carry on, huh?"

"Even without seeing that poster, it seems they knew it.**" England allowed a small smile of pride to creep onto his face.

America's heart skipped a beat at the sight. He'd always loved England's smile, and thought that the elder nation didn't show it nearly enough. "Does it hurt anywhere?" he asked softly.

England hesitated, but then nodded. "A bit. Across my chest and sides, from the bombings. But they're healing quickly. A-America?"

America stood and walked over, sitting down next to him and gathering the smaller nation into his arms. England felt so frail, and America wanted to treat him very carefully, but he knew that if he voiced such thoughts or went overboard with that England would get mad and snap about not being made of glass. He hugged him tightly, but not too tight. "I'm sorry," he murmured, nose buried in England's hair.

England leaned against him, letting out a soft sigh. "What for?"

This World War and the last had brought him and America closer together than almost any other time before. Many times in the latter part of the war the two of them had found themselves side by side, unsure if they'd make it. It was during one such occasion that America had kissed him. England was surprised, but he'd kissed back. A few more had followed, all of them chaste and short. The Brit wasn't exactly sure what to make of it, but he decided that he liked the warm feeling in his chest.

"Not coming sooner." America clung to him more tightly for a moment.

"We've gone over this before. Now stop that." England maneuvered his arms around so he could hug America back.

"M'still sorry."

England drew back and raised an eyebrow at him unamusedly.

America gave him a sheepish smile and leaned forward to peck him lightly on the lips. When the Brit didn't complain or move away, he kissed him again, longer and with more conviction.

"Mmm...'Merica," England mumbled against him. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." America drew back and ran a thumb across England's cheek. "I'm gonna do whatever I can to help you recover," he said with determination.

"America-"

"I will. You and anyone else who needs it***. But you especially. Hero's promise." America hugged him tighter again.

England felt warmth and relief flood through him. He shifted so he was sitting in America's lap. "Thank you..." His pride could handle a  _little_  help.

"I will help," America repeated with a smile, and sealed the vow with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Refers to the Battle of Britain, which was the German aerial campaign against Britain during the summer and fall of 1940.
> 
> ** The famous 'Keep Calm and Carry On' poster, despite the production of it, it wasn't actually hung up anywhere or shown during the war. I'd assume England would have seen it though.
> 
> *** After WWII, America had a plan to economically help all of the European nations who needed it, provided that they had a Democracy as their government. This was called the Marshall Plan (and also the European Recovery Program ERP). America gave the most money to England. Interestingly enough, the Soviet Union also offered aid, but only if the nations didn't have Democracy as their government system, or were part of the Soviet Union.


	4. Movie Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a request by one of my old friends. Theme was slippers.

"Pajama Movie Night!" The poster proclaimed.

Arthur glared at the bright paper as if his gaze could somehow make it disappear. It didn't. The blond Brit sighed and taped it up to the wall.

Francis, the vice-president and Lilli, the secretary, had been practically begging him for weeks to organize an event like this. Arthur had held out for a long time, but finally two weeks ago the treasurer Vash (who happened to be Lilli's brother) had had enough of the constant ruckus and switched from being neutral on the matter to his sister's side. The situation resolved itself quickly after that, and now Arthur was 'volunteering' to put up the advertisements for it.

It was early on Monday morning, so there weren't that many people in school, but a few of those present noticed the colourful paper and came closer for a look. Arthur tactfully stepped to the side and slipped away, but he could hear the beginnings of excited chatter spreading through the small crowd. By the end of the day the talk spread and what seemed like the whole school was in a mini-uproar.

"Everyone's excited for Wednesday." Francis sighed happily as he settled down in his chair.

Arthur glowered. "Don't make me regret this."

"Oh lighten up, Arthur!" Lilli said as she came in, Vash on her heels. "It'll be fun!"

The Brit switched his gaze to her, but immediately he softened. For one, Lilli was too sweet a girl to glare at, and also there was the slight issue of Vash...demonstrating his extensive weapons collection to him if he so looked at his sister in a wrong way.

"Yes, yes, you all can enjoy yourselves," Arthur said, returning his eyes to the papers on his desk.

" _Quoi_?" Francis's head shot up, and he stared at the other blond. "Oh  _non_ , Arthur, you are going as well. The president should be seen at such events. To represent the student council."

"And why can't  _you_  represent the student council?" Arthur asked thinly.

"Arthur, come on. It'll be fun. We'll all be there, and you need to loosen up," Lilli broke in.

Francis suddenly got up and went over to him, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "I hear Alfred was very excited about going."

Arthur pulled back from him, his cheeks pinking. "S-So? What do I care if he's excited?" he snapped, a scowl back on his face.

"It is obvious you have an attraction for him," Francis continued, not even bothering to whisper any more.

"Enough. Just count the votes for the movie choice," Arthur ordered. "We have to announce it tomorrow."

Francis sighed but moved away, opening the voting box that had been sitting in the lunch room all day and sifting through the scraps of paper there. Lilli moved to help him while Vash stepped over to Arthur's desk to discuss financial matters.

There was a choice of three movies:  _The Avengers_ ,  _The Suicide Shop_ , and  _The Road to El Dorado_. All day the students had the opportunity to vote for which movie they wanted. It took the two of them half an hour to tally up the votes, until finally Francis stood up.

"We're showing  _The Road to El Dorado,_ " he announced.

Arthur glanced up in surprise. "Really? I was honestly expecting  _Avengers_  to win."

Francis shrugged. He glanced at the time and gathered his things. "It is time for me to get going.  _Au revior, mes amis_."

After he left, Vash and Lilli stayed for another fifteen minutes before leaving themselves. As usual, Arthur was left alone working until five. He was finalizing the plans for the blasted movie night. The next day was spent acquiring all of the necessary projecting and sound materials, while on Wednesday they set it all up.

"Blast it!" Arthur swore at one point.

"What is it?" Francis asked, looking up from fiddling with the projector.

"I forgot to bring my pajamas," Arthur muttered with a scowl, viciously stabbing a cable into its proper place in a speaker. "Seems I can't stay for the movie."

"Careful with that," Francis chided. "You still have half an hour until the movie starts. Vash, can you drive Arthur to get his stuff?"

The senior looked up and nodded. "Come on."

Arthur, who himself was a junior along with Francis, got up and followed, shooting the French student a glare as he went. And here he thought he'd be able to get out of the whole thing.

After getting the Brit's address, Vash drove them quickly and in silence there. "Ten minutes."

"Right." Arthur exited the car and walked quickly to his house. Once in his room he had to pause to consider his options. Usually he slept in unicorn and fairy patterned pajama pants, but there was no way in hell he'd ever let anyone see him in those.

Eventually he decided on green plaid pajama pants, his usual black  _London Calling_  t-shirt, and a pair of fuzzy mint green slippers. Normally he wouldn't be caught dead in public in them, but he knew that the gymnasium floor could get very cold and the slippers were good at keeping warmth in. On the way out he grabbed a black blanket to spread out under him. There was some traffic due to an accident when they were driving back to the school, so they arrived just as the movie was starting.

* * *

Alfred wriggled in his spot, half out of discomfort and half because he wanted to get out of earshot of his friends. He was in a group of football players that kept up a steady stream of commentary about this girl's rack or that one's underwear and Alfred was getting sick of it. For one because he swung for the other team, but also it was just plain rude.

At one point when the opening credits had just started, his attention was pulled to the gymnasium door, which had opened. And who stepped through the door but Arthur Kirkland, the last person Alfred expected to be here for an event like this. The American had to admit, Arthur looked exceptionally cute tonight. The British boy looked around for a moment before finding a quiet spot off to the side.

Alfred debated internally with himself, and then managed to slip away from the group of footballers. He moved towards the mop of messy blond hair with purpose, planting a bright smile on his face as he got closer. "Hey there, Arthur. Didn't expect to see you here."

Arthur's head tilted up, wariness instantly flooding his eyes. "Didn't expect to be here," he replied in a similar tone to Alfred's. "What do you want?"

Alfred shrugged and glanced to the screen, and back to Arthur's eyes. Slight heat flooded his face and he hoped it was too dark in the room to notice. "Can I sit here?"

Arthur seemed surprised by the question, and his eyes narrowed. "Don't you want to sit by your friends?"

"Nah." Alfred glanced briefly back at them. "They're bein' stupid. Plus, you're all alone and I wanna sit with you."

The smaller boy hesitated but then moved to the side, leaving ample space on the blanket for Alfred.

Alfred's grin broadened and he resisted the urge to fist pump out of victory. He plopped down right next to him and sighed. "Hey!" he suddenly said, looking down at Arthur's feet. "Those are cute."

Arthur sputtered and turned red, drawing his legs in closer underneath him. "Shut up and just watch!"

"No, really!" Alfred reached out to poke one. "Oooh, it's soft! Really cute, Artie!" He laughed softly at the other's ruffled expression.

"Hmph." Arthur huffed and ignored him, resolutely staring at the movie screen.

Alfred gave the slippers a final pat and then relaxed, leaning back on his arms to watch. He hadn't seen the movie ever, and it soon caught his interest. He burst out in muffled laughter a few times and saw Arthur glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

"What?" he finally asked, turning fully to face him. "They're funny. And cute together."

Arthur's eyebrows rose. "You mean Tulio and Chel?" he asked carefully.

"No, silly, I mean Tulio and Miguel!" Alfred replied with a grin. He sniffed. "Chel's acting like a total cockblocker now."

"...Yeah, I guess." Arthur blinked, seemingly not understanding their conversation and the direction it was headed.

Alfred sighed. Why did people always assume footballers were narrow-minded asshole pricks? Well, some of his teammates admittedly were, but he wasn't. He decided to take a chance. "You know who else would be cute together?" He waited until Arthur was focused on him. "You and me."

For a moment there was no reaction, but then Arthur narrowed his eyes again. "Is this a joke, Jones?" he asked scathingly.

"No, no, I swear it's not!" Alfred hissed quietly, putting his hands up in the surrender position. "I really like you!"

Arthur stared back at him, unmoving. The green eyes were piercing, searching for any reason for doubt, but Alfred kept his own wide and honest. The silence between them stretched out for so long that the American was slowly starting to lose hope and regret his decision, but finally Arthur sighed softly.

"I've liked you for a while now..."

Alfred's eyes widened even more. "Really?!" he asked excitedly, scooting closer to him on the blanket.

"Y-Yes." Arthur seemed startled by the movement, but he quickly settled down, even moving a tiny bit closer himself.

"Would you wanna go out sometime? Give it a try an' stuff?"

Arthur nodded mutely.

Alfred smiled softly and moved closer still, hesitantly wrapping an arm around Arthur's shoulders. He was prepared for rejection, for his arm to be shaken off, but nothing of the sort happened. Instead Arthur curled closer to his side. Alfred used the opportunity to stroke the slippers again, this time with his foot, amazed to feel the soft texture even through his sock.

Arthur started chuckling. "S-Stop that," he managed to get out.

"Aww, fine." Alfred kept it up for a moment longer and then stopped. "They're cute though."

"So you've said before. Now sit back and watch the movie."

Alfred laughed and did as told, pulling Arthur flush against him in the process. For the rest of the movie they stayed like that, their laughter from the scenes reverberating between each other.

Unbeknownst to them, Francis was glancing at them occasionally and smiling to himself in satisfaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Francis would be a total matchmaker for them. Along with Elizaveta. XD


	5. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alfred and Alice used to be friends. Then Alice moved away. When Alfred hears she's moved back, he doesn't know what to think. Will he get his friend back, or will they just be strangers? 
> 
> A request for someone on dA. I decided to go with Fem!England here for the kicks of it, and because I thought it would be fluffier.

"Alice is in the hospital."

Alfred blinked and glanced up at his mom from his video game. "Alice...?" he asked, confused. He wasn't friends with anyone named Alice.

"Kirkland. Remember, from when you were younger?" his mom prodded.

" _Oh_ , right!" Alfred remembered now. When he was a little kid he'd been best friends with Alice Kirkland, the English girl across the street.

The Kirklands had moved to America when Alice was four, and she and Alfred had become friends immediately. They did everything together- went on adventures in the woods, got into trouble, played with Alfred's action figures and Alice's stuffed unicorns- they were even in the same kindergarten class, and because of their last names lay next to each other during nap time. That had continued through elementary school, where they always partnered together.

But then Alice had moved. Her father's job, which was the reason they came to America in the first place, caused them to have to move back. Alfred and Alice had been nine, and the American hadn't heard from her in the eight years since.

"What's that have to do with me?" Alfred asked. He didn't want to sound mean or anything, but the English girl really hadn't been a part of his life for the past few years.

His mother gave him A Look. "They moved back last week-"

" _What?!_ "

"Let me finish. Alice fell while setting up the library and passed out. They admitted her in for observation, but I thought it would be nice for you to go visit her. She'll be going to your school starting Monday, after all."

Alfred put down his controller. "How do you know alla this?"

"I was just speaking with her mother. We think it would do her good to see a familiar face." There was something in the woman's expression that hinted at more to the story, but she didn't offer any more information.

"All right, I guess. When'll we go?"

"Now."

"What?! No, at least lemme finish this level!"

"Alfred, come on. You can finish later, and I told Rose we'd be there by five-thirty.

Alfred glanced at the time and groaned, then set his controller down, saved the game, and turned the console off. "Fine. Ugh, but I don't even know what she'll be like now."

"You'll just have to find out, won't you?"

"Don't blame me if things get awkward..." Alfred muttered, following her out to the car.

"Just be yourself, and everything will be fine."

They were almost to the hospital when Alfred was struck by a sudden thought. "Hey Mom?" He waited until she was looking at him. "Why didn't you tell me they moved back before?"

"Rose wanted to get settled in before letting anyone know. She called yesterday morning for the first time, but it slipped my mind."

"Oh. And why exactly  _did_  they move back?"

"You'll have to ask Alice."

Rose was waiting for them in the hallway outside Alice's room. "Amelia, you came! And oh- Alfred, is that you? You've grown so much!"

Alfred heard Rose's voice with her lilting accent and it was as if they had never left. He grinned and hugged the woman, having to bend down a little bit because of how much taller he was now. "It's real nice to see you again, Ms. Kirkland."

"Call me Rose," the English woman insisted. "Go on in to see her. She'd been excited to see you again, despite her appearance."

"Sure." Alfred let Rose go and approached the door, his heartbeat speeding up a bit despite himself. He knocked, and without waiting for a reply, entered.

He really didn't know what he was expecting. The girl on the bed somewhat resembled the picture of Alice he had in his memory, but the features were sharper. Her blonde hair was longer and tied in a braid that hung down her shoulder with messy bangs and other, slightly shorter strands that hung around her face. The eyes and eyebrows were the same though- brilliant green, and fuzzier and darker than normal.

"Hey there," Alfred said, his voice hushed for some reason.

"Alfred?" Alice asked.

"Yeah."

"You got glasses."

Alfred instinctively reached out to touch the rims on his nose. "So did you," he replied, nodding at the pair resting on the bedside table.

"They're for reading. But err- hello. Forgot to do that earlier, silly me..." Alice's voice lowered until she was talking to herself, but then her eyes snapped back up to his face. "You look well."

"Thanks." Alfred offered a grin. "So do you."

"I'm in the  _hospital_." Alice raised an eyebrow.

"I mean  _besides_  that!" Alfred laughed nervously and fell silent. Damn. This was bad- it was already getting awkward and they were less than five minutes into their conversation! He had to step up his game. Grinning broadly again he marched over to the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress.

Alice blinked, moving back a bit. "What are you doing?"

"I wanna sit." Alfred shrugged. "So I heard you moved back like a week ago."

"Yes, we're down the street from your house now."

"Why?"

"Why what?" Alice seemed startled.

"Why did you move back?"

"Oh." Alice looked down and intertwined her fingers. "Mum and Dad got divorced. She wanted to come back here so she did with me and Liam."

Alfred reached over and squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry..."

"It's fine. It was a self-destructive relationship anyway." Alice slipped her hands from under his.

"Yeah..." Alfred moved his hand back, unsure of what to say now.

For the remainder of the time before Amelia stuck her head in, they sat in silence only occasionally broken by awkward attempts at small talk. Alfred really didn't know why he was having such a difficult time- this was  _Alice_. But maybe that was the problem.

"Hey there guys!" Amelia opened the door and came in just as Alfred was about to ask about the weather for the third time.

Alfred jumped up. "Hi Mom!" he said, relief flooding through him. "Why don't you talk to Alice for a while?" He stood up and moved to the door. "Bye, Alice. Nice to see ya." Then he was gone.

"Good bye," Alice murmured to the closing door. "Thank you for coming."

Alfred breathed a sigh of relief when he got into the hallway. He didn't always catch on to the atmosphere in a room, but in that situation it had been hard to ignore the glaring awkwardness. Rose wasn't anywhere in sight, so he left the building and waited by the car, headphones plugged in and over his ears.

Amelia came out about fifteen minutes later, and they went home. The entire ride Amelia chatted about how wonderful it was that they moved back and how much Alice had grown and changed. Alfred nodded in the appropriate places, but overall he had an unsettled feeling in his stomach.

* * *

Alice started school that Monday. She ended up in three of Alfred's classes: English, History, and Physical Education. Alfred offered her the seat next to his to sit in which she took, grateful to have even a semi-familiar face nearby. The American tried to talk more with her, but he still didn't know how to approach her.

On the whole Alice seemed very reserved. She was very different than what Alfred remembered. At first there had been a buzz in the grade that a new British student was coming to their class, but Alice was generally unsociable and soon everyone forgot about her. She carried herself with a high and regal grace and became a quick favourite of many teachers.

But she wasn't fun.

"Hey Alice!" Alfred was once again trying to reach out to her. "Since practice is cancelled and me an' Kiku an' Gil still wanna play some, we're gonna go to my house and play in the backyard. You wanna come too?"

Based on his muscular build and height, many people would assume that Alfred played football, but in fact he was on the soccer team. He had admittedly been thinking about joining the football team, but his best friends Kiku and Gilbert had wanted to play soccer and he ended up going with them. The blond seemed to have a knack for international friends because Kiku was Japanese and Gilbert was from Germany.

Alice glanced out the window at the gathering storm clouds. "In the rain?"

"Yeah, that's the best time! Then we get dried off, pile under a whole bunch of blankets, and watch some movies!" Alfred replied enthusiastically.

The English girl looked down. "No thanks." She lightly brushed past him and walked away.

Alfred was crestfallen, but his moping was cut short by the arrival of his friends. They had fun kicking the ball around and practicing their skills - and per usual almost got sick afterwards - but all Alfred could think about was how badly he wanted Alice there as well. He felt a little disappointed in himself- his childhood best friend had come back and here they were, treating each other as utter strangers. Maybe he wasn't being persistent enough?

That had to be it. Alfred vowed to himself that he would try harder, and keep on trying until Alice was close to him again.

The next few weeks brought numerous attempts, some successful, and others utter failures. He tried everything from tutoring to help in class to project partners to sitting together at lunch to even just attempts at small talk. Asking for help got him the farthest. He also invited her over a few more times, but she always declined his offers.

Then they moved on to swimming in P.E. The school had an indoor swimming pool for the swim team and gym classes. Alfred really liked the swimming unit, but Alice looked apprehensive on the first day.

As almost anyone in school, Alice had her 'enemies'. People that disliked her for whatever reason- her looks, her grades, her attitude, whatever. It so happened that a few of those people were in the class.

They were standing around the poolside and the teacher was explaining the syllabus when there was a loud splash from the direction of the deep end. The first few seconds no one reacted, seemingly startled by the sudden noise. Then heads started to turn.

"Who what that?!" the teacher asked, anger visible on his face.

"It was Alice," one of the girls standing nearest the spot said.

Alfred froze. Alice. Memories stared flooding back to im. Alice was afraid of the water- she always had been, ever since she was little. Alice couldn't swim.

Tossing all other thoughts aside, Alfred dived in after her. She was sinking slowly to the bottom of the pool, eyes closed and barely moving. Alfred swam down and gathered her up bridal style before kicking off to the surface.

When they broke through Alice started coughing and gasping for air, leaning in closer to him. He made his way to a clear area of the edge and lifted her out onto the ground before climbing out himself. The other students immediately tried to all come closer to see, but Alfred kept them back while Alice recovered. He saw the teacher was about to say something, but he cut him off.

"I'll take her to the nurse," he quickly offered. "Y'know, just to make sure."

The teacher frowned slightly but nodded. "Fine. Come back for your stuff later." His look also said 'I need to speak with you about this later'.

Alfred nodded and scooped Alice up again, ignoring her faint protests that she could walk by herself. "Ya nearly drowned, Alice. Just relax."

Alice huffed but looked down, falling silent. Alfred glanced down at her in concern and shifted her more to one arm so he could grab his jacket on the way out.

The nurse received them with surprise. She gave both of them towels and some random dry clothes. Alfred finally set her down so they could dry and change. After that the nurse tried to dismiss Alfred since he was fine, but he convinced her to let him stay. Alice was ordered to rest for a while in one of the rooms so she could get over her minor shock, so Alfred just stayed with her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Yes. Thank you." Alice shivered slightly but smiled gratefully at him.

Alfred grinned back at her, happy that she finally smiled at him. Then, noticing her shivers, he covered her with his jacket. "Someone pushed you in, didn't they?"

Alice looked down. "Yes. It was one of the girls nearby, but I dunno which one exactly it was."

Alfred's eyes darkened in anger. "Those- Those-"

"Yeah, I know." Alice gave a halfhearted shrugged. "But what can you do?"

"You've got me, the hero, to protect ya!" Alfred said fiercely. "Plus you can tell Teach. I'm pretty sure right now he thinks you jumped in."

"But I  _didn't_. I never would, you know I can't swim."

"Yeah, I know. So we'll just go talk to him when you're feelin' better and explain what happened. He'll believe us, he knows I don't lie."

"All right, sounds like a plan." Alice suddenly paused as a thought struck her. "You're still obsessed with superheroes?" she asked with a teasing smile.

Alfred blushed a bit. "Well not  _obsessed_  maybe...but I still like 'em. And I'm a hero now too! I saved you, didn't I?" He puffed his cheeks and chest out proudly.

Alice laughed despite herself. "That you did."

"Hmm..." Alfred's expression turned mischievous. "What about you? Do you still like unicorns so much? How many toys you still got?"

The English girl reddened. "I- You- none! I'm no longer interested..." She withered slightly under Alfred's bright gaze. "One or two...or five..."

"Knew it!" Alfred laughed and couldn't resist hugging her. "I knew you were still my Alice under all that stuffiness!"

Alice went still. "Your...Alice?"

"Yeah. My best friend." Alfred pulled back a bit so he could look her in the eye. "Can we be friends again?"

"I..." Alice looked at him and had to avert her gaze. She knew that Alfred had his own, new life since she had gone away, and now that she was back she didn't want to intrude on it. But if Alfred wanted her there... She suddenly threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "Yeah."

Alfred was surprised, but after a moment he hugged her back, smiling broadly. "That's great!" Her wet braid dampened his fresh shirt, but Alfred didn't mind- he'd just gotten his best friend back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just using Amelia and Rose for the names of the mothers because those are names commonly associated with the respective nations, and I didn't want to keep saying 'Alfred/Alice's mother' or 'the American/English woman' all fic long.
> 
> Also, I've noticed that in a lot of these reunion fics they always seem to go 'oh you came back' to 'you've changed so much' to 'drama!' to 'kissing and lovers' automatically. Why can't they just go back to being friends? Friends are good too (for now XD)


	6. Don't Judge Cats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, another USUK cat story. (Added bonus: Cameo from the Bad Touch Trio) (Yeah, I dunno about the name- I couldn't come up with anything better.) Enjoy!

" _Sacrebleu_ , that has to be the ugliest cat I've ever seen in my life!" Francis proclaimed, staring with drunken frustration at the drenched orange and white Scottish Fold huddled up close by a dumpster.

He, Gilbert, Antonio, and a slightly unwilling Alfred had gone out for a few drinks and now they were going home. The Frenchman was close friends with the German and the Spaniard, and the American had tagged along for distraction. It had started raining during their drinking, and none of them had an umbrella.

"Oh  _Gott,_  you're right!" Gilbert, the drunkest of the quartet, stumbled up to it and prodded it unceremoniously with his boot. Being so drunk, the nudge turned out harder than he intended.

The cat came to life with a yowl, and it huddled even closer to the dumpster. It was soaked through completely and its fur was matted.

Antonio snickered at it along with the other two, but Alfred stayed silent. The American's blue eyes were locked with the cat's impossibly green ones for a moment before the cat looked away and tried squeezing farther under the giant metal trash can.

"What do you think, Alfred? Can anything get anymore unawesome than that?" Gilbert asked.

"Uhh...no. Heh...guess not," Alfred muttered unenthusiastically. "I...I should probably be getting back home. G'night." He was the most sober of them, and putting his hands in his pockets, he turned and walked away.

He didn't go far, though. He rounded the nearest corner and waited there, surreptitiously watching. He saw Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio insult the cat for another couple of minutes. They prodded the cat a few more times, hard, before they finally got bored and walked off, singing drunkenly as the rain soaked them even more.

Once they were out of sight, Alfred slowly walked to the cat and crouched down before it. It hissed weakly and shrank away.

"Hey, hey, easy there dude. I'm not gonna hurt you," Alfred told it softly, hesitantly reaching out with a hand.

He received a scratch for his efforts.

"Ow- fuck!" Rainwater dripped down and mixed with the blood from the cut, but Alfred paid it no mind. The cat had jerked back at the sudden curse. "Shush, I already told you, you're fine with me! Don't do that again though, that fucking hurt." Great, he was talking to a cat now.

Said cat didn't look impressed.

Alfred decided to change tactics. He pulled on a bright smile and reached out to the cat again. "It's okay, it's okay," he murmured the entire time.

This time, the cat let him touch him, and eventually Alfred got the feline away from the dumpster. He hefted the cat up and zipped it up in his jacket so it was resting against his stomach and out of the rain.

Alfred's house wasn't too far away and he walked there quickly, head bowed against the downpour. When he was inside he made a beeline towards the bathroom and got the cat into the bathtub.

Turns out the cat really hated being bathed. It raised a terrible racket and it took Alfred almost an hour to wash off all the mud and get it dry. By the end of that hour, the American acquired a multitude of new scratches was thoroughly exhausted.

"You're quite the little spitfire, ain't ya?" He chuckled tiredly, and then sat up. "Spitfire! That'll be your name!"

Happy, he let the cat out of the bathroom and fed him some chicken - he'd discovered the cat was in fact male during the bath - and then went to take a quick shower.

Spitfire was in the middle of the bed when he walked into the bedroom. The cat looked much happier and was no longer trembling. His bright green eyes, unlike any other cat's eyes Alfred had seen before, watched the American unreadably, but it seemed like there was a bit more trust in them.

"Oi, I gotta fit on there too." Alfred lightly moved him off to the side and climbed in. "I'll take ya to the vet tomorrow, kay?"

Spitfire bristled at that, and Alfred could swear it understood him. But then, after the man got comfortably settled down, he climbed up onto his chest and began purring. It started off as a rough, broken rhythm, almost as if the cat hadn't done so in a long time, but eventually it evened out.

Right then, Alfred decided he was going to keep the cat. Screw Francis, the Scottish Fold was cute in its own way, and Alfred was already attached to it. Besides, he was getting kind of lonely, and what better companion than a cat?

"Don't worry, it's just for a check up. You're stayin' here," he said, scratching him behind the ear. He fell asleep to the sound of purring.

When he woke up the next morning, Spitfire was curled up against his side. He scratched the cat behind the ear to wake him up and then dressed.

The Scottish Fold was washing himself in the kitchen by the time Alfred came down. He received some more chicken, which he ate with a look on his face that said, 'it'll do for now'.

Alfred glanced at the clock as he booted up his laptop. 9:30. He reasoned that most vets would probably be open by 10, but he had no idea where the nearest one to him was. So off to the internet.

Within minutes, he found someone not ten minutes away on foot. "Dr. Arthur Kirkland, hmm? What do you think, buddy?" he asked the cat. He was ignored. "Him it is, then."

Then, he faced a slight dilemma. He didn't have a cat carrier or a leash, so he wasn't sure exactly how to transport the cat to the vet's. In the end, he simply carried the cat like he had the previous night.

The vet's office was a small white building, located conveniently right next to a pet supplies store. There were three cars in the parking lot before it, so Alfred figured it wasn't that crowded. He was right.

The waiting room was empty, and the secretary looked as if she was playing a game. The only other living thing was a fat white cat asleep on the desk. A bell above the door tinkled as the American walked in. The cat opened his eyes to reveal bright blue orbs and stretched. There was a ring of fluffy brown fur around its neck, something that Alfred found weird, but cool.

"Hi there. Can I help you?" the secretary asked, looking up from her computer.

"Yeah. I found this cat yesterday, and I want to get him checked up. If he's sick or something."

"Are you going to keep him?"

"Yup!" Alfred said brightly, and scratched Spitfire's ears again.

The secretary looked a bit surprised, but she nodded. "Okay then. Dr. Kirkland is currently busy with another patient, but he should be out to see you soon. I'll need your name."

"Alfred F. Jones."

"Take a seat, Mr. Jones."

Alfred nodded and plopped down on one of the chairs, moving Spitfire from his jacket to his lap. The other cat perked up at this and slowly wandered over. Spitfire had closed his eyes, so therefore didn't notice until the white cat was beside him and yowled loudly.

Even Alfred was surprised at the amount of noise the cat was able to produce. Spitfire jumped up, fur fluffed out and claws digging into Alfred's thighs. Alfred winced, but then Spitfire recovered and the claws retracted. The orange and white cat instead glared at the fat one.

But the white cat was undeterred and nuzzled forward curiously. Spitfire hissed at it, but was ignored. Pretty soon Alfred had two cats in his lap, neither one of which would settle down. The American tried shoving one, then both of them off, but they refused to leave. The fat one let out another loud yowl and half-climbed up Alfred's shirt. Upon closer inspection, Alfred discovered the blue of the cat's eyes were an almost identical shade as his own.

After a while he gave up and just let the cats sit there. Spitfire finally settled down, and they shared the task of making Alfred's legs go numb.

A little girl and her mother suddenly came through, heading outside. She had a small kitten in her arms and looked very happy. Alfred smiled at her, and she smiled back before she left.

"Hurricane, you bloody fat arse, what are you doing?"

Alfred glanced to where the girl had come from to see a short blond man standing in the doorway, green eyes narrowed and focused on the white cat. Hurricane mrowed in response, looking pleased.

"Hurricane?" Alfred asked, his heart jumping a bit when the man focused on him.

"World War II fighter plane. Plus, he's exceedingly large and destructive," the man replied briskly, his British accent highly prominent. "Apologies for him. Here, I'll get him off." He strode over and picked the cat up, setting him down on the floor.

"No problem, man. Are you Dr. Kirkland?"

"Yes, but if you are an adult, you may call me Arthur." Arthur stuck out his hand. "Mr. Jones?"

"Yeah, but you can call me Alfred." Alfred shook it and noticed no wedding band. That made him really happy, for some reason. He also noticed that Arthur Kirkland was pretty cute...aside from the massive eyebrows, but they worked for him. "And here's Spitfire." He presented the cat to him.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Spitfire?"

Alfred grinned crookedly. "World War II fighter plane. Plus, he's got a hell of a temper." He showed Arthur the scratches on his arms.

Arthur immediately turned serious. "Come on. We have to get him tested."

"Why?"

"If he has a disease, it could be transferred to you through those. Come along now." Arthur turned and marched off to the examination rooms.

Alfred followed and settled Spitfire down onto the metal table. Arthur thoroughly examined him and took blood samples. There was a bit of a commotion then, but the vet was skilled and no unnecessary blood was shed. While the blood was getting tested, he insisted on cleaning Alfred's scratches with a strong disinfectant.

"No harm in it," he explained when the American asked.

The test results came back soon after that, and Arthur went to go fetch them. "You're in luck. He's perfectly healthy. And what a good looking fellow he is," Arthur said, scratching the cat's ears.

"He's not the only one," Alfred replied, taking a chance. He looked intently at the Englishman's face, his eyes sharp.

Arthur paused in his motions and glanced up, his gaze meeting Alfred's. "Pardon?" His cheeks turned pink.

Alfred winked at him.

"O-Oh." Arthur quickly stepped away and cleared his throat. "Mr. Jones, I assume you're keeping him. Do you have the proper equipment?"

"Equipment?" Alfred's heart sank a bit as Arthur moved away, but he made sure to keep the emotions off his face.

"Yes. Cat carrier, scratching board, food, bowls, the like," Arthur explained. "Here, I'll write you a list," he added, starting on the list when Alfred shook his head no.

There was a slightly awkward silence as he wrote down the items he had named and then a few more.

"Hey listen, I'm sorry about before... I get if you're not into guys and all," Alfred began awkwardly.

Arthur stilled briefly again. "Not a problem." He seemed quite recovered by that time. "Wasn't expecting it is all." He gave him a small smile.

Alfred's eyes widened a bit. "Really? So you'll go out with me then?"

"That's- That's quite sudden..." Arthur half-muttered, and then his eyes snapped to Alfred's face. "How old are you, even?"

"Twenty-two. Almost twenty-three. Why?"

"I'm twenty-six," Arthur told him, raising an eyebrow.

"And? S'that supposed to scare me away? Older men are cool." Alfred moved closer to him. "Pleeeeaaase?"

"Pleading won't get you anywhere," Arthur said flatly. "You sound like a child."

Alfred pouted slightly. "I can be serious," he promised.

"Well..." Arthur thought for a moment and looked him over critically.

At first, Alfred squirmed under that gaze, but then straightened out and looked openly back at him, trying to communicate with his eyes how badly he wanted to be given a chance. The American normally didn't believe in love at first sight, but there was definitely a certain attraction there.

"Alright, alright," Arthur finally said. "I can check when I'm free-"

"Thank you!" Alfred couldn't help interrupting. His shoulders went slack with relief, and there was a blinding smile on his face. He wanted to hug the man before him with happiness, but felt that that would be taking it too far. Especially since they'd just met.

"W-Well..." Arthur trailed off with a blush, smiling a bit in response and nodding. He leaned over the list and added his phone number to the bottom of it. "Here you go. They should have everything next door. Call me in the evening, and we can set something up."

"Okay. So that's it? He's all good?"

"Yes. He's completely healthy, and you can have him neutered, if you so desire, some other time. My secretary will take care of the paperwork up front," Arthur said, nodding a bit awkwardly. "I'll erm, see you around, then."

"See ya, Artie!" Alfred picked up Spitfire and flashed Arthur another brilliant smile before leaving.

The paperwork didn't take long at all, and surprisingly, neither did the shopping. Alfred could barely settle down all day, his stomach buzzing with excitement about that evening. Finally, the time arrived.

"Oh, hey Arthur. It's Alfred. So when are you free...?"

* * *

Alfred woke up early, which was a small miracle. He glanced down and smiled softly at the sight of Arthur next to him in bed, one of the Englishman's arms across his stomach. There were faint dark circles under Arthur's eyes, but that was normal since he worked so hard.

A few moments later, the alarm clock started screeching and Arthur opened his eyes. "Good morning," he murmured as he lifted a hand to shut the alarm off.

"Mornin'." Alfred replied. He pouted a bit, mourning the loss of the arm across him. Once there was silence in the room again, he pulled Arthur closer. They'd been living together for over three months now, and Alfred never tired of waking up next to the vet.

"Alfred, let me go please. I have work, and you need to feed the cats."

Almost as if to reinsure Arthur's words, Hurricane and Spitfire leapt up onto the bed, settling down right next to the men.

"Work can go screw off, an' the cats can wait," Alfred muttered sleepily.

"Alfred-"

"Call in sick. I wanna cuddle with you."

"Alfred I-"

"Seriously. You haven't had a day off since you moved in. You need a rest." Alfred shoved his nose into the crook between Arthur's neck and shoulder and tightened his grip.

Arthur stayed silent for a while. "I suppose one day off won't cause the end of the world," he finally said. "Williams can hold off on his own for today. Hand me my phone."

Alfred grinned as he passed over the device. A few minutes later, the two of them were right back to just holding each other and cuddling. Francis had been wrong. Spitfire was the most beautiful cat Alfred had ever seen, because he led the American to Arthur.


	7. Late Night Ice Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alfred wakes up one night to a very dire emergency.
> 
> I wrote this last year for my very good friend as a present for the 6th of December (Nikolaus) but I hope you enjoy it as well!

"Arthur. Arthur wake up." Alfred's voice drifted through his consciousness. "We have a major problem.  _Arthur_."

"Wha?" Arthur blinked awake and rolled over to squint at him. "Alfred? What's wrong?"

"There's an emergency," Alfred said seriously.

"What kind of emergency?" Instantly, Arthur was more awake.

"We're out of ice cream."

"...Alfred." Arthur glanced at the clock. It was 1:38.

"Yeah?"

"Are you insane? It's the middle of the bloody night. Why the hell are you looking for ice cream in the first place?" Arthur sat up and rubbed his eyes, glaring at the other when he could.

Alfred shuffled slightly on the bed. "Weeeeell...I couldn't really sleep so I went downstairs to get some ice cream cuz I was bored and didn't wanna be creepy by starin' at you for too long." He gave a sheepish smile. "So I went down but there was none!" His blue eyes widened with panic.

Arthur shook his head in resignation, knowing that Alfred wouldn't leave him alone until he had his ice cream. "Love, are you sure you didn't just miss it because you don't have your glasses on?"

"Oh. Didn't think of that." Grinning, Alfred grabbed his glasses from the bedside table and ran out of the room.

Sighing softly, Arthur fell back and closed his eyes, burrowing deeper under the covers, practically shoving his face under a pillow. He enjoyed the blissful silence for as long as he could, and he had almost fallen back asleep when Alfred came running back.

"There's nothing, Artie," he said mournfully.

Arthur groaned, both at the nickname and the rest of the words. "Too bad," he said brusquely.

The mattress shifted slightly and then the Englishman felt warmth on his back and arms slipping around his torso. Alfred curled right up to him, his head right next to Arthur's neck and breathing gently onto him. Arthur squirmed a bit, but then settled down when Alfred didn't do anything else.

"No, not too bad," Alfred whispered to him giddily after a moment. "We gotta go get some."

"You're not serious," Arthur muttered back to him. "Just go to sleep, we'll get the ice cream in the morning."

"No, but I want it now!" Alfred whined, nuzzling to him. "C'mon, Artie, please! I might not want it in the morning."

"Your loss."

"Why're you so mean?"

Although it was dark in the room, Arthur could almost see Alfred's certain pout. "I am not mean, I'm logical. We are not going to get ice cream at nearly two in the morning."

* * *

"...I hate you."

Alfred looked over at him in the passenger seat and laughed. "Nah, you still love me. And 'sides, that was fun!" He grinned broadly at him.

Arthur scowled in return. "You slung me over your shoulder like a sack of common potatoes and went crashing down the stairs,  _screeching_  at the top of your lungs," he said flatly.

"I was singing!" Alfred was pouting again.

"Keep your eyes on the road," Arthur told him, and the American's gaze obediently snapped forward. "That was not singing, that was painful."

"Well I  _can_  sing."

"Mhm." Arthur looked out the window for a moment. "So where exactly are we going?"

"There's this small convenience store a few miles out. I've gone there a few times before, they've actually got tons of variety!"

"We are getting one box."

"What? No, c'mon, why only one?!"

"One. Box."

Alfred pursed his lips but didn't argue anymore for the moment being, though in his mind he was going through scenarios of how he could sneak in an extra box or two. It took them another ten minutes' driving on the empty roads to get to the store, and once they pulled into the parking lot Alfred started bouncing again. Arthur smiled softly at him, but made sure he didn't notice.

"So I'll just go get the ice cream, and you can just like, look at tea or some-"

"Nice try, but no." Arthur smiled at him. "We're staying together," he said pleasantly. He didn't really want to think about the various methods Alfred would think up to smuggle some more ice cream home- or where the ice cream could possibly be hidden.

Alfred forced a smile back at him, but he didn't look angry. Or surprised. "Right. Let's go, then?"

"Of course." Arthur got out and drew his coat a bit tighter around himself. "Ice cream in December, I swear..." he muttered.

Alfred laughed and linked arms with him as they entered the store. He pulled them off to the fridges in the back, where the ice cream trove was. Arthur stepped back then and watched with much amusement as the American man fluttered around the glass case, peering eagerly at all the different flavours.

"Which one?!" About five minutes later, Alfred turned to him with two cartons of ice cream. "Double Fudge Marshmallow Brownie, or Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough?" He peered more closely at the second container for a moment. "Whoa, with extra bits of cookie dough!"

"They both sound like heart attacks in the form of excessively sugary cream," Arthur commented.

"C'mon, pick one!" Alfred thrust both boxes closer to his face.

"Tch. Oh fine, I suppose the Chocolate Chip...whatever it is, will be the less likely one to give you a stomachache."

"Hah, I wouldn't get one anyway. Y'can't get a stomachache from  _ice cream_!" Alfred announced, putting the other box back with slight sadness.

"Right," Arthur said disbelievingly. He was turning away when he suddenly froze, staring at a certain spot on the fridge. Was that...? He moved closer. It was.

"Uhh, Artie?" Alfred, who had taken a few steps down the aisle, looked back now and frowned.

Arthur didn't even take notice of the nickname as he reached out to open a freezer and grab a box. "Let's go, shall we?" He then started the aisle himself.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Alfred stopped him with a hand on his chest. "What's that?"

"Ice cream." Arthur looked at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah, but what-" Alfred took a closer look at the name. "Rum Raisin? Okay, first off, you said only one thingy of ice cream, and two, I don't need you getting drunk off that."

"One box  _each_." Arthur smiled, but then huffed. "Do you know how bloody  _hard_  it is to find Rum Raisin ice cream? And I will not get drunk off this. The percentage is so low- I doubt there's actually any alcohol in there. It's more just flavour."

Alfred laughed at him defending it and mussed up his hair. "Well all right. I'm never against more ice cream." He led the way to the register- well at least until Arthur tugged him off to the side.

"Tea."

"Tea?"

"Yes. Since you so kindly reminded me, we're running low on tea." Arthur steered him to the tea and coffee aisle. Immediately he picked up a few boxes of Earl Grey, and also some non-caffeinated sleeping tea.

"All right, let's go before the ice cream melts!" Alfred took the basket and dashed off to the register to pay. Luckily they were the only ones in the store except for the bored cashier, so he wasn't disturbing anyone.

Arthur followed at a slower pace. He happened to glance at a clock he passed- it was 2:26- and his tiredness returned full force. Yawning, he finally reached the registers. By that time Alfred had checked out and paid, so Arthur just nodded tiredly to the woman working and followed his lover out.

"Hey, ya seem extra tired all of a sudden." Alfred slung an arm across his shoulders, the bag swinging slightly in his other hand. "You okay?"

"You woke me up in the middle of the night and dragged me here, of course I'm bright and chipper," Arthur muttered sarcastically.

"You did get your rum ice cream," Alfred pointed out.

The Englishman just grumbled some more until he got into the car, where he quieted in favour of watching the streetlights zip by. He had almost slipped into a light doze when they arrived back at the house.

"I'll take the bag and park, you just go," Alfred offered.

Arthur nodded and stepped out. He entered, fumbling around the lock for a few minutes, and then went straight to the kitchen. He knew Alfred would definitely want a bowl, and he supposed a small scoop wouldn't hurt him. So he prepared two bowls, spoons, and the scooper and waited.

Alfred burst through the door moments later, his eyes lighting up when he saw the table. At Arthur's stare he carefully put the tea away first before scooping out the ice cream. He put a scoop of the Rum Raisin for Arthur, tasting it along the way. "It's good, I guess, but it could be a bit sweeter," he commented.

"Hmph. You just can't appreciate a harmonious balance of flavours." But nonetheless he thanked Alfred when he received his bowl.

"Sure. Wait for me on the couch?"

Arthur nodded and went over, settling down on one end and starting to eat his portion. Alfred joined him a few minutes later with his own bowl. "Alfred."

"Yeah?" Alfred got comfortable right next to him and flicked the television on to some random show, turning the volume down so it was merely a droning noise in the background.

"You couldn't possibly fit any more in there?" He was staring at the American's overflowing bowl with shock, amusement, and just a pinch of admiration.

"Huh?" Alfred examined it closely. "Well, now that you mention it...coulda probably gotten another half scoop in there." He started to rise.

"Stay put." Arthur's hand clamped down on his wrist. "You'll eat the whole thing now in that fashion."

Alfred grinned cheekily at him. "But Artie, then we'd have to go get some more! Wouldn't you wanna?" Taking advantage of Arthur's mouth opening into a perfect O of rage, he quickly slipped a spoonful of his own ice cream into it.

Arthur blinked a few times and swallowed, though his foot moved to knock against Alfred's shin as a reprimand. "Oh God, that's so sweet!" He wrinkled his nose.

"Pfft, you just can't handle it!" Alfred received a smack for his laughter, and was still quietly snickering as he watched Arthur angrily eating his ice cream.

"You are such an arse," Arthur muttered.

"I've got a great one, too!" Alfred laughed again as he ate more of his ice cream and watched Arthur redden. But the Englishman didn't deign him with a response, so he shrugged and continued munching through the bowl, eyes flicking to the TV screen to watch the characters move around. His fingertips and hands had frozen (or at least it seemed that way to him), but his side was warm from where it was pressed against the other blond.

Arthur finished his ice cream not long after and simply set the empty bowl on the coffee table, leaning a little more into Alfred as he leaned back.

"Hmm?" Alfred glanced down and licked his lips clean before pressing a kiss to the top of his head with an overexaggerated "Mwah!". He grinned broadly when Arthur chuckled and snuggled a little closer to him.

Arthur was watching him out of the corner of his eye and frowned slightly when Arthur finished. "Tch. Look, now you've made a mess of yourself." He lifted Alfred's hand to show him his sticky fingers.

"What?" Alfred had finished licking his mouth clean a second time when Arthur did that. "Oh," he said, leaning forward to lick those clean too, but Arthur stopped him.

"Allow me."

Alfred swallowed and nodded ever so slightly, shifting closer to him.

Arthur smiled and drew Alfred's hand closer to his mouth, his tongue flicking out to wrap around the fingers. He finally placed them into his mouth, sucking lightly to remove the sticky sweetness while at the same time tugging the slightest bit. He paid close attention to each finger, and then kissed them when he was satisfied they were clean. Then he started on the other hand, which was equally as sticky.

Alfred didn't look away from im for one moment. He couldn't- Arthur's half-closed eyes were absolutely enthralling, and the feeling of his tongue over his own fingers sent heat tingling all over his body. His pajama pants became slightly tighter and his breath shuddered for a moment, but the look in Arthur's eyes informed him he'd be getting no action that night. The Englishman was teasing and doing  _incredibly_  hot things with his tongue- Alfred's thought process cut off for a moment here as he let out a soft moan- but it was just for the teasing's sake, not sex.

"There..." Arthur said in a low tone as he finally let go of his other hand, using his tongue to gently push it out " _Much_  better."

"Nngh..." Alfred let out another tiny moan as he pushed himself even closer to Arthur, dipping his head down to rest it on Arthur's shoulder. "You're mean," he muttered, freezing when Arthur rested a hand on his hip.

Arthur smiled and gently pressed his thumb down on a spot on the inside of the hipbone, a place he knew was highly sensitive. "Am I?"

The breath rattled out of him, and Alfred felt himself reacting even more. "Yea- holy  _shit_  ahh..." He trembled slightly and then suddenly bolted from the room. "I'm gonna go take a shower!" he yelled loudly over his shoulder.

"Consider it payback for waking me up!" Arthur called after him, chuckling. He shook his head and gathered up both bowls, taking them to the kitchen and washing them before going back to their bed.

Slipping under the covers, he sighed in bliss and relaxed. Half of him was listening to the quiet thrum of shower water while the other half was trying to fall asleep. He had almost drifted off when the water stopped and a few minutes later Alfred wandered in, a pout on his face.

"What are you waiting for?" Arthur muttered, throwing the covers open for him. "Get in here."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." Alfred slipped under them and curled up next to him, turning him around so they could spoon. "But Artie?"

"What."

"It wasn't that bad, right? I mean, there's a kind of thrill that comes from doing stuff in the middle of the night."

"...I suppose so," Arthur eventually admitted, snuggling deeper into Alfred's arms. "Good night now, love."

"Night, babe." Alfred pressed a kiss to the back of his neck and then, after a few minutes, drifted off.

* * *

"Uhh, Arthur? Artie?"

It was two days later, and Arthur half-woke with a soft groan. "What is it, Alfred?" The light from one of the streetlights made Alfred's eyes shine even more intensely, or at least that's what Arthur thought.

Alfred cracked a hesitant smile. "We're out of ice cream again."


	8. Frozen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The nights get cold during the winter, and Alfred wakes up freezing one morning.
> 
> Arthur is 23  
> Alfred is 19  
> Matthew is 20  
> Alfred and Arthur have known each other for about a year now, and have been going out for around six months.

Alfred woke up in the middle of the night, freezing. He lay in his bed for a few minutes, shivering, until a particularly large shudder drove him to action. He jumped up, cursing at the temperature, and dashed to the hall to get extra blankets. He grabbed three and then bolted back to bed. He flung the blankets over it and shimmied into another pair of fuzzy pajama pants before burrowing under the mass. He was still cold and shivering at first, but a few minutes later he warmed up a bit and fell asleep.

The morning wasn't much better. By that time it was nice and toasty under the covers and Alfred basked in it for a while before finally going out. When he did, the cold hit him like a punch to the stomach.

"Frick frick  _fucking_  shit it's cold!"

He darted over to his closet and flung out a pair of warm pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Then he dove back under the covers for another minute, taking in the lingering warmth. The process was repeated a few times until he had a complete outfit. Then he finally surrendered the warmth and dressed.

He heard sounds from the kitchen, meaning his Canadian roommate Matthew was up. Hoping for a nice warm breakfast, Alfred bounded into the kitchen, and he wasn't disappointed. "Mornin', Mattie!" he called, plopping into his seat and watching him cook.

"Good morning to you too." Matthew glanced at him, amused. "What were you doing this morning, wrestling with your massive ego?"

"I do not have a massive ego, shut up!" Alfred pouted a bit. "I was cold! Man, does the heating even work in this place?"

Matthew's smile broadened fractionally. "Yeah, it is. I feel fine." He set down a plate of French toast for both himself and Alfred.

Alfred looked up at him suspiciously. "Yeah, but you're Canadian. You're used to like, negative gazillion," he muttered, shoving some of the French toast into his mouth. "An' dun shmirph like tha'."

"What was that? I don't speak Alfred," Matthew asked innocently.

Alfred swallowed. "I said, don't smirk like that. And don't  _look_  like that, you ain't innocent."

"Just eat your breakfast, you bottomless pit." Matthew dug into his own portion, and when he was done he placed the plate in the sink. "Will you clean up? I'm going to try and teach Gilbert how to ice skate. Again."

"Don't get hypo-whatever it is and die," Alfred replied, nodding and rising to move to the sink. "You're crazy, to go out in the cold like that."

"Mhm. See you later."

Alfred stood over the sink and turned the water on to how. "See ya. Have fun. Try not to get kicked out. Or kill anyone."

"I'll remind Gilbert." Matthew put on his boots, jacket, earmuffs, scarf, hat, and gloves and left.

Humming and vibrating a bit in his spot to keep warm, Alfred started on his work. The hot water felt good at first but then grew even hotter and he had to wash the dishes quickly so as not to get burned. This turned out to be a mistake. For when he finished, and dried his hands, they were even more freezing than before within seconds.

He had the day free of classes at his university, so he tried to spend the day doing homework. He was burritoed up in front of his desk but still the cold seeped in, and after an hour he couldn't concentrate and gave up. Putting on another sweater and his coat, he also donned gloves and a hat before dashing out. He sat shaking in his car until it warmed up and when it did he put the heating on full blast.

"Ahh, much better," he muttered, practically pressing his face against the air vent.

Finally he unstuck himself from it and drove out. There were barely any cars on the road but he didn't pay them much attention. He was fixated on getting to his destination. The only place that he might be able to get warm.

* * *

Arthur was sitting comfortably in his armchair before the fire with a blanket on his lap and a book open in front of his nose when the knocking started. He huffed in annoyance and closed the tome before slipping off the chair to go to the door. Peering through the peephole he saw Alfred hopping about on his front porch, breath coming in soft puffs.

"Alfred?" he asked, opening the door. "What are you-"

He got no further for Alfred barreled past him and into the house, almost knocking him over. Alfred panted, shuddered some more, and then dashed back over to the doorway to pull Arthur away from it and close the door.

"No don't let the cold in!" he yelled as he did so.

"Alfred, what's gotten into you?" Arthur asked, hesitantly stepping over to him.

"S'cold," Alfred muttered, having the grace to even try to look abashed for his loud entrance. Then he brightened and pulled Arthur into a hug. "But hey there, Artie. Long time no see." He pressed a light kiss to the smaller man's cheek.

"We went out on a date two days ago," Arthur reminded him, but nonetheless hugged him back and kissed him. "Now, what brings you here?"

"S'cold. I was cold. Your house is warm. Plus, I wanted to see you."

"Well there's a fire going-"

"FIRE!" Alfred released Arthur and sprinted down the hall.

"- in the sitting room so make yourself comfortable..." Arthur shook his head and followed at a slower pace. He found Alfred sprawled out on the floor in front of the fire, as close as he could get without getting burned. "You are ridiculous," he commented as he got settled down with the book again.

"I'm  _warm_ , that's what I am." Alfred sighed happily.

"Mhm." Arthur was already immersed back in the pages. "There's still some of your hot chocolate mix in the kitchen, if you would like to make yourself some," he said offhandedly.

Alfred glanced at him. "Thanks!" he said, rising. "You want some?" Upon hearing no answer he took that as a 'no' and shrugged, going to the kitchen. Five minutes later he was back in the same spot, happily slurping down his hot chocolate.

Silence settled over them, broken only by the crackling of the flames and the occasional rustle of paper as Arthur turned the page of his book. The air was warm and comfortable around them. Alfred just watched the fire for a while, but eventually closed his eyes and instead soaked up the heat. However, being Alfred, he got bored easily. At Arthur's next page turn, he got up and leaned over the arm of the chair.

"So whatcha reading?"

"A book," Arthur replied flatly.

"What book?"

"Just a book, Alfred."

"What book?" Alfred repeated.

Arthur sighed but showed him.

"Cool. I'm bored."

"That is not my prob- hah!" Arthur let out a loud breath when Alfred suddenly pushed the whole chair away from the fire. "What are you doing?!"

"Not being bored." Arthur replied as he then dragged the couch closer to the fire, right into the spot where the armchair had been. Once that was done he picked Arthur up, blanket and book and all, and plopped him down onto it.

"I was perfectly fine where I was."

"Nah." Alfred grabbed another blanket and settled down beside him. "Both of us wouldn't have fit on there," he said, snuggling up to him.

"I am trying to read," Arthur told him, but didn't push away. In fact, he leaned a bit more into Alfred and relaxed.

"Read out loud to me."

"Pardon?"

"Read it out loud, Artie." Alfred shifted so he was lying on the couch with his head in Arthur's lap. He grinned up at the Englishman. "I like listening to your voice, y'know."

"Tch." Arthur caressed his cheek. "All right."

Alfred turned his head to the side so he could kiss Arthur's fingers. "Don't be pissed if I fall asleep though. I was freezing my ass off half the night." It was a little white lie, but Alfred was just  _so comfortable_  like that he already felt himself getting sleepy.

"Git."

And so Arthur read to him. He picked up right where he himself had left off in the text. The hand on Alfred's cheek drifted upwards to thread through his hair, while the other held the book against the armrest of the couch. He broke off once or twice to take a quick drink from the now-cold tea on the table nearby. Luckily it hadn't been jostled in Alfred's moving session. Speaking of which, he glanced down to find the American indeed asleep.

Smiling softly, Arthur stroked his hair again and placed the book to the side. He moved so he was lying down alongside Alfred, in his arms. Alfred shifted minutely, and then his grip tightened. Arthur adjusted the blankets around them and allowed himself to relax. He checked the fire- it was under control, and about to go out- and then closed his eyes, nuzzling to Alfred. Outside it was still cold, but the frozen world could not matter less to the lovers for the warmth surrounding them drove away all unpleasantness from beyond the walls.


	9. Of Thievery and Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eragon AU! Arthur is an elf on a mission, but he gets injured and saved by a certain hero. What will come of it?

Arthur raced along the roofs of Dras-Leona, the sound of his pursuers slowly fading away. The blond elf was still breathing normally, but he'd been leading the guards on a merry chase around the city for over an hour, and even his exceptional stamina would start to give out eventually. Plus there was the small matter of the wound in his side, but he ignored it for now. Quickly glancing around, he spotted a good hiding place and changed direction towards it.

Slipping into the alleyway, he stilled and waited. The sounds of pursuit grew in volume again and moments later the score or so of city guards that were on his tail passed over him. When they were gone Arthur let out a breath and checked the bandages around his middle. They were dirty with blood and a small amount of sweat. He'd have to change them soon, if he managed to get out of this blasted city. But he had his prize, he thought triumphantly as he touched the sack on his belt.

There was a rustle behind him and he whirled around, drawing his sword just in time to block a fatal blow from a guard sneaking up behind him. "Consider yourself honoured," Arthur told him as he ran him through. "You're the closest anyone's ever come to killing me."

Another guard soon came upon him, and Arthur was forced to run again, though some of his strength was restored by the short rest. This time though, the guards seemed to have gotten smarter. They drove the elf deeper into the city and closer to the massive cathedral, where the buildings were higher and he would have less chance for escape.

Arthur cursed when he realized this, and he picked up speed. Hopefully he'd be able to reach the cathedral with enough time to spare to figure out an alternative route. The roofs flew by and his stomach clenched as the massive building came closer, but he pressed forward. He hated this city and everything in it far more than any of the other human cities.

His agility allowed him to easily climb the sides and roof of the cathedral, though his hands felt as though they might burn if he touched the surface for too long. He reached the top and stood on a ledge, observing below him. He cursed again when he saw groups of guards approaching on all sides, with no way out. The men stopped on the nearest roofs below him, hesitant to actually climb up.

"Shit," Arthur muttered. His hand tightened on his blade when some brave souls started slowly going up. "Come on, then," he said and then leapt from the ledge, sword outstretched...

Only to be plucked from the sky by a massive force from above. A glittery red paw closed around his body and Arthur realized it was a dragon. His breath left him in a rush and a hiss, and he almost dropped his sword. Faintly he registered the guards on the roofs scattering, but he was too busy yelling profanities at the dragon to pay them too much attention.

"Oi!  _Oi_ , let me down, you sodding beast!" He wriggled around, hitting at the scales with his free hand. "I won't be your bloody dinner, fly down and let me go this instant!"

The grip around him tightened slightly and the dragon twisted its neck down to look at the elf, staring flatly at him for a moment with burgundy eyes. Then, Arthur swore it  _smirked_ , its mouth curving up into a leering grin. Before he fully registered it, the beast was already looking ahead again, and flying steadily away from Dras-Leona.

They flew for about an hour, until the city and the dark mountain beside it were both long gone from sight. Then the dragon angled downwards, heading for a clearing at the edge of the forest and not too far from the shore of Leona Lake. It landed slightly awkwardly on its hind legs and then free foreleg, Arthur still held aloft. It regained its balance and finally lowered the elf to the ground, releasing him.

"About time," he snapped, marching away from the dragon.

"Hey, wait!" a voice called out.

Arthur stopped and whirled around, only then noticing the saddle on the dragon's back. There was a boy perched there, and as he hopped off, from his movements Arthur could tell he was human. The Rider straightened and grinned. He had blond hair with one wayward strand, bright blue eyes, and a brilliant smile. Arthur's eyes narrowed fractionally, and he resisted the urge to grumble.

"What?" he asked instead. "What do you want with me, why did you take me?"

"Uhh, 'cause you were surrounded and hurt?" the Rider said, coming closer.

Arthur simultaneously backed away, and could see the human was taller than he was. "I had it under control, there was no-" He stopped suddenly, and his eyes narrowed once more. "How did you know I was hurt?"

"Al here smelled your blood," the Rider said, gesturing to the dragon, who nodded and leered lazily at Arthur again. "So we decided to help ya out. I'm Alfred by the way, what's your name?"

"None of your business. Now, thanks for the lift, but good bye." Arthur turned away once more and resumed walking off.

Alfred let out a groan and ran after the elf, reaching out to grab his shoulder. "Hey, seriously, c'mon-"

In an instant Arthur had him pinned to the ground, blade at his throat. The elf was crouched over him, eyes narrowed to slits. "Don't touch me."

Al lifted his head and glanced at the two of them, but then let out a breath and relaxed again, sprawling out on the ground.

Alfred gulped, the blade digging slightly more into his throat. "Okay, sorry, sorry. Just...don't leave yet, c'mon. You're hurt, you gotta at least rest a bit."

Arthur glared down at him for a while, and then huffed. "I'm staying to change my bandages and that's it," he said, and moved back. Walking over to the opposite side of the clearing he took stock of his supplies and then vanished in the direction of the lake.

 _Thanks for the help,_  Alfred muttered, getting up slowly. He walked to Al and began digging through his own packs.

 _Pff, you were fine,_  Al replied, yawning.  _If he'd wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead._

 _Hah, no, I'm a Rider and hero!_  Alfred declared. He emerged victorious with a collapsible pot.

 _And he's an elf, stronger and more powerful than you, pipsqueak_. Al shook his head and grinned.  _He's cute, ey?_

Alfred reddened.  _Shut up._  He quickly gathered up some sticks and with a quick spell got a fire going. By the time Arthur came back from the lake with some water, he had a nice vegetable stew going on.

Arthur tried to ignore the smells wafting around the clearing, settling with his back to his company. He stripped of his shirt and undid the bandages, wincing slightly when the fabric unstuck from his skin. The gash was shallow but fairly long, but luckily it stopped bleeding too much. After a while he felt an uncomfortable sensation on the back of his neck, as if he was being watched. Sure enough, when he glanced around, he saw Al's eyes fixed on him. He tried glaring, but Al just kept staring, and he got even more unsettled.

"Your dragon is staring at me," he said flatly.

"Huh?" Alfred glanced up. "He has a name," he said, pouting a bit, but then turned to Al. "And cut it out, man."

"Yes, I was wondering about that," Arthur commented. "You named your dragon after yourself? Wow."

"He chose it!" Alfred glanced at him. "Why don't you just heal that? Then you won't have to deal with it." He stepped closer and peered at Arthur's side.

"There's no real reason to. It doesn't inhibit me much, and I'd rather save my strength as much as I can until I return to Du Weldenvarden. If it's still not healed by the time I get there, I'll heal it there. Besides, when was I supposed to heal it, during the chase?" Arthur shrugged and finished rebinding it. He packed up his things and stood. "I'll take my leave now."

"Hey, no, c'mon." Alfred gestured to the pot. "Look, it's almost ready. At least eat with us first. There's no rush. I doubt the guards will get this far anytime soon, if they even bother looking for you at all."

"Why is it that you want me to stay so badly?"

"Well, you seem like a pretty cool guy, and who knows when you'll next get food?" Alfred smiled.

"I..." Arthur tried resisting, but soon found himself giving in. "All right." He moved over to the fire.

"Awesome!" Alfred whooped and dashed over to his packs again, withdrawing two bowls and spoons. He passed one of each to Arthur and then stirred the stew a few more times until it was ready.

 _Well, I'm off to hunt,_  Al announced, rising and stretching his wings.  _See ya later, lovebirds._

 _We aren't lovebirds!_  Alfred yelled after him, immensely glad that his connection with the dragon was closed off to Arthur. But Al was already gone, so he turned to Arthur and filled up their bowls. "So! Let's try the whole introduction thing again. I'm Alfred F-"

"I know who you are," Arthur interrupted him.

Alfred brightened. "You do?"

"Of course. One would have to live under a rock not to hear of the absolutely  _amazing_  Alfred F Jones, Dragon Rider extraordinaire," Arthur said sarcastically.

It flew right over Alfred's head. "Really? That's what they say I am? I mean, it's sweet and all, but I'm just helpin' people." He didn't hear Arthur's sigh. "But what's your name?"

"I'm Arthur," Arthur eventually said, starting to eat.

"It's nice to meet ya, Artie!"

" _Arthur_."

"Yeah, yeah." Alfred waved a hand. "So tell me,  _Arthur_ , why were all those guards chasing you?"

Arthur glared at him, but Alfred just continued looking at him in interest, and the elf realized he wasn't going to get out of answering at least some questions. "I retook something that rightfully belonged to the elves."

"Retook?" Alfred's eyes widened after a moment. "Like...like  _stole_?"

"That human had no right to be parading around with that blade. I was merely doing what was right," Arthur replied haughtily.

"So you're like...a thief."

"He stole it first!" Arthur was fast losing patience.

"B-But you stole it too..." Alfred looked at him. "And that's why they were chasing you?"

Arthur let out a breath. "Oh for- yes. What are you going to do, hmm? Take me back and turn me in?"

"I-I..." Alfred kept staring at him, looking him all over. "But then you're hurt... I was gonna offer to fly you to the forest..." He seemed to be having an argument with himself, but doing some of it out loud. On one hand Arthur was a thief and he shouldn't help him, but on the other, the man Arthur had stolen from the elf said stole the object - probably some dagger or sword - beforehand. Plus, Arthur was hurt and wouldn't heal himself, so he was vulnerable. Not to mention being quite cute-

"I don't need your help," Arthur cut in. "Besides, I wouldn't want to impede on your precious moral code," he said sharply.

"Nah...I mean you said he stole it first, right? So that makes him the bad guy. Plus, those priests there creep me out so I'll help you out!" Alfred declared with a broad grin, looking immensely pleased with his decision.

"As I said before, I don't need your help."

"No, but c'mon, think about it! It'll save you so much time, and we aren't really doing anything specific now. That thing you...took, it's pretty important, right? So you'll get it back home faster, yeah?" Alfred said quickly. "Al and me'll be happy to do it!"

 _I'll be happy to do what?_  Al asked as he flew over the treeline, settling down on the ground again and projecting his thoughts to the both of them.

"We're gonna take Artie here to Du Weldenvarden! You're okay with that, right?" Alfred asked, standing and lugging the pot of stew over to him. "Here, you want the rest?"

Al leaned over and grasped the rim of the pot delicately between his teeth and tilted his head back, sending the contents down his throat. He set the pot down and moved closer to Arthur, inspecting him.  _He's hot enough to fly with us. Hop on, elf,_  he declared.

"What, now?" Arthur was taken aback by both the dragon's response and the suddenness of their apparent departure.

"Yeah. We're still too close to the city." Alfred clambered up to the saddle after cleaning and stowing away the pot. He settled down on the back part of the saddle, leaving room in front of him for Arthur. "Come on, and could ya put the fire out on the way?"

With a flick of his wrist some water appeared, and Arthur watched as it smothered the flames. Then he approached Al and gracefully climbed up to sit in front of Alfred. Though he had grown up with dragons he had never ridden one and a small jolt of excitement, carefully masked, went through him. Alfred's arms went around his waist and he jumped again. "What are you-"

"Relax, I gotta hold onto you, make sure ya don't fall off and stuff." Alfred replied, quickly reaching down to adjust his stirrups. He was glad Arthur was facing rigidly forward, else he would have seen the human's faint blush.

 _Yeah Alfie, get what you can,_  Al said eagerly, and luckily he spoke only to Alfred.

 _Shut up, would you?_  Alfred shot back, face flaming by now.  _What about you, huh? Or are you still chasing Matt?_  he asked, referring to his brother Matthew's dark purple dragon.  _He'll kick your tail again, you know._

 _Shut up,_  Al growled, flicking his tail in annoyance.

 _Then you shut up as well,_  Alfred replied. "Hey Artie, exactly where do you live?"

"Finally you ask. I was beginning to think you were just going to take me to Ellesméra," Arthur muttered. "I live just outside of Kirtan. It's south of Ellesméra."

"Right. It'll take about two weeks to get there, maybe less depending on how often we stop."

* * *

It did take them a little less than two weeks to make the trip. During the day they flew almost without stopping, except to hunt and relieve themselves. At night most times they slept out under the stars surrounded by spells and wards, but a few times they were near a town or settlement so they just slept in an inn. Alfred got Arthur a deeply cowled traveling cloak to better hide his elvish features and so they could travel with fewer disturbances. Arthur did alter his appearance with magic (and he did eventually heal his wound, at Alfred's insistence), but Alfred wanted to be extra careful.

During that time the two of them got to know each other very well and developed something akin to friendship (and more, in Alfred's case). The Rider shared stories of his childhood and growing up by the coast in Teirm with Matthew. Alfred was 19 now, Matthew just over a year older, and they had been chosen about three and a half years ago. The two of them had gone to the elves to hone their skills and learn more, but they hadn't travelled close to Arthur's home.

Arthur meanwhile shared some storied about elves and their magic, as much as he deemed fit to reveal. He didn't talk about his family much, only mentioning that he had three brothers and that one of them was a Rider. Other than that, in the second week he even started mediating with Alfred (they were short sessions) and helping him with magic he still found difficult. Their magic flowed well together, and Alfred tried harder to impress him, though the elf did not know that. Al just watched the two of them in amusement, occasionally teasing the human about his feelings.

The day they spotted the dark green line on the horizon marking the edge of Du Weldenvarden they turned slightly east, flying diagonally and cutting across the very rim of the Hadarac Desert. After the forest came into view Alfred became more reserved and moped around so much that he pissed Al off and finally even Arthur noticed.

"Alfred, are you all right?" he asked one night. They were almost at the spot where he would enter; they'd most likely reach it before noon tomorrow. "You seem tense."

"Huh?" Alfred glanced up from the rabbit he was roasting. "Oh, I was just thinking. I kinda got used to your company...grumpy as you are."

Arthur raised an eyebrow as he bit into his bread. "What, are you going to miss me?"

"Yeah, I mean I thought we were friends," Alfred said lowly, looking at the fire.

The emotions in his voice caused the slight smirk to slip from Arthur's face. "Really, friends?"

"Yeah, but I guess I was wrong." Alfred poked at the rabbit, shoulders slumping.

The elf was silent for a while, watching Alfred and thinking. "You know..." he said eventually, and was pleased when Alfred finally looked up at him. "Kirtan is still a distance away. I'd like to return this as soon as possible," He gestured to the stolen blade at his belt. "So would you mind giving me a lift there as well?" He smiled the smallest bit as Alfred brightened, but lifted a hand to stop him as he was about to speak. "Additionally, there's a swordsmaster there that I'm sure wouldn't mind having you train with him for a while if you wish. You may stay with me in my home."

"Really?" There was a broad smile on Alfred's face and he hurtled across the space dividing them to hug Arthur and kiss him. He didn't think about it, he just brushed Arthur's lips with his own automatically. They were soft and full and fit perfectly against his. Then, he realized exactly what he was doing, and pulled back. "Shit!" He scrambled away, but froze at Arthur's voice.

"Alfred?" the elf asked. He lightly touched his lips, shocked.

"O-Oh hey Artie, pleasant evening isn't it yeah real nice, not to cold and whoa the forest always amazes me y'know-"

"Do you like me?" Arthur asked quietly, cutting across Alfred's rambling.

 _Well I'm off to hunt,_  Al said loudly, and then took off to give them some privacy.

Alfred was still frozen, and he stayed so for the next few minutes. He jumped when he felt Arthur's hand on his shoulder. Internally he was cursing himself for being stupid and moving too quickly, but outwardly he had the look of a frightened deer. He swallowed, and his mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out. Finally, he cleared his throat and looked down. "I- yeah," he said in a very small voice.

Arthur studied him silently, taking in his half-hidden red cheeks and bowed posture. He could hear the thrumming of Alfred's heart and realized the human was scared, terrified of his response. "Well this is unexpected-"

"I'm sorry," Alfred cut in.

"Pardon?"

"Sorry, okay?" Alfred turned away. "I shouldn't have done that. I'll just leave now."  _Al, come back_. "You'll make it on your own no problem."

"Excuse me?" Arthur followed him, getting mad. "Alfred, I just said it was unexpected, not that it was bad." He grabbed Alfred's shoulder and spun him around, glaring up at him. "Do you like me?"

"Y-Yeah..." Alfred muttered, eyes fixed on a spot above Arthur's head.

"That doesn't sound very convincing," Arthur commented. "Look at me-  _right_  at me, and answer. Do you like me?"

Alfred lowered his gaze until blue met green. "Yes," he said firmly, but softly. "Yes, I like you." He was surprised to see Arthur start blushing faintly and move back.

"Well," Arthur murmured, half to himself. "There's a new idea. Err...if you would still like to, you're still welcome to accompany me to Kirtan...and we shall see how this thing between us progresses. While I cannot say at this point that I like you in return, you are certainly charismatic and likeable..."

"Artie..." Alfred smiled and swept him into a hug, holding the elf tightly.

"Wh-oi!" Surprised by the gesture Arthur immediately tensed up, but after a moment he forced himself to relax into the hug. His arms went around Alfred in return and, and he patted the human's shoulder.

 _Oh get a room,_  Al told them both as he swept down and landed.  _Alfred, ya called?_

The two of them sprang apart, blushing heavily.  _Y-Yeah, but nevermind, it turned out differently than I thought,_  Alfred told him, rubbing his neck.

 _So I came back for nothing?_  Al wasn't amused. Grumbling, the dark red dragon curled up on the ground.

Alfred looked back at Arthur nervously. "...You wanna sleep now?" he asked, pulling out his sleeping mat. "And uhh, we can share if you want, you won't have to sleep on the ground again." The Rider had tried to give Arthur his sleeping mat before but the elf refused every time and Alfred felt bad, but now there was another possible solution to the problem.

"Share it? As in sleep together?" Arthur observed him intently. It was unexpectedly endearing, the human's nervousness, and Arthur's heart swelled. "I don't think that would be too bad... I was feeling a chill the other night, the warmth will be welcome. It can get quite cold in the desert at night, you know."

Alfred glanced at him more closely, and spotted the glimmer of possibility within the elf's eyes. "C'mere, then," he said, breaking into another broad grin. Arthur was nervous, but willing to try. Arthur was giving him a chance.

Seeing Alfred's smile made a small one grow on his own face. He moved over to the mat, putting the fire out along the way. Alfred was already settled down, and as Arthur slipped down next to him he felt arms lightly going around his waist. "Don't worry, I'm not going to leave," he murmured, chuckling softly and patting Alfred's hand.

"I know," Alfred replied, a whisper of breath across the back of his neck the only warning Arthur had before the Rider nuzzled to him. "Good night, Artie."

"Good night, Alfred." The last thing Arthur felt before falling asleep was the gentle flutter of a kiss against the back of his neck.

He slept well and woke uncharacteristically late. He was alone on the mat, but sounds from behind him notified him that Alfred was nearby. He rolled over and was greeted with the sight of the human making breakfast.

"Morning!" Alfred called cheerily when he noticed Arthur was up.

Al was gone, off hunting, and the two of them wasted no time eating breakfast and packing while they waited for him to return. Then they sat together on the ground, and Arthur allowed Alfred to hold his hand and cuddle a bit. The dragon eventually appeared over the flat horizon and they climbed into him, heading into Du Weldenvarden. They entered with minimal hold up, and the elf instantly became happier once he was within the borders of the forest.

It took them a little over two hours to get to Kirtan, with Al flying as fast as he could. After the first treetop houses came into view Arthur started giving directions to his own dwelling. Alfred was looking over Al's side in awe, staring at the passing scenery. He had been in the realm of the elves before, but not in this part, and he felt like he was seeing it all for the first time again. The houses below them stopped, and he blinked.

"Is it much farther?" he asked, resting his chin on Arthur's shoulder.

"No, not too much farther." Not used to such attention - but quickly getting accustomed to it - Arthur turned his head to the side and pressed a very small kiss to Alfred's cheek.

"You're so cute." Alfred chuckled, nuzzling to him. He was pleased to receive even small displays of affection from the elf, for it proved he might like him back.

"Shut up." Arthur leaned slightly away from him.

 _Aww, you two are adorable,_  Al teased.  _You want me to leave you guys alone so you can have hot fiery sex tonight?_

 _W-What?!_  Alfred went red, and Arthur sputtered against him. So he must have heard as well.  _We won't be doing that!_

 _There will be no such activities going on!_  Arthur managed to get out, speaking almost at the same time as Alfred. "There, see that clearing? That's it."

Al snickered at the two of them and dipped down to the clearing, landing with grace in the middle of it. He settled down on his belly to allow them to get off. Arthur dismounted first, immediately moving to one of the massive trees on the edge. Alfred followed right behind, looking around with wide eyes. As they drew closer he notice well-concealed windows and a door, and he realized this was the elf's home. A thrill went through him.

"Al, if you fly up, there's a tunnel through the upper branches leading to where you can sleep," Arthur said as he opened the door. He held it open and gestured for Alfred to enter.

Alfred faintly registered the blast of air on his back signifying Al's ascension as he entered the home. The rooms were dimply lit by the small windows, but he could see well enough. The decorations were elegant but not overly fancy, and mostly green and nature-based. Looking around, he saw it fit Arthur perfectly. "It's really nice, Artie," he said, turning to him and smiling.

"Thank you." Arthur gave him the faintest of smiles back.

There was a quiet tremor from above as Al landed in his room, and Alfred glanced up. "What's up there?"

"A room for a dragon. My brother visits occasionally," Arthur said, his tone not suggesting that he looked forward to those visits. "So I have to have some space for his dragon. Go on up."

Alfred nodded and dashed up the staircase. There were three levels to the tree house, he realized. The lowest was the kitchen and a place to relax, the second was the bedroom and two guest bedrooms, and the third, hidden amongst the branches of the massive tree, was what seemed like a dragon den. There was a large dip in the middle of the floor where a much larger dragon than Al would fit, and some smaller ones for humans. The branches were interwoven to form walls and floor, most likely by magic.

The red dragon was already sprawled out in the dip, and he glanced up when the human entered.  _So how's it going?_  he asked, winking.

 _It's fine,_  Alfred replied very clearly.  _How're you liking it up here?_

 _Mmm, I like it._  Al stretched out languidly.  _Wouldn't mind moving in here in the future, if you catch my drift._

Alfred groaned.  _You're so dirty. I can see why Matt chases you away all the time. Mattie does not need to hear this kind of stuff,_  he muttered.

The dragon just laughed.  _Yeah, yeah. I'll go out hunting later, but otherwise I'll be here. Try and keep it to a minimum, won't ya? I wanna sleep._

 _You're horrible,_  Alfred told him, and then bounded back down the stairs. He found Arthur waiting on one of the chairs. "Hey there."

Arthur stood. "I'm off to return the dagger. You eat and rest. I should be back before evening." He pointed to the table, which was set for one. "The food's there."

"You sure you wanna go alone?" Alfred walked over to him.

"Yes, I have to. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine.

"Okay." Alfred pulled him into a hug. "See ya later, then."

Arthur hugged back briefly. "Yes, see you in a while," he murmured, and slipped away.

Alfred watched him go and then turned to the food. There was no meat, of course, but Alfred didn't mind. He could go vegetarian for a few days. He ate some but left a good amount for Arthur when he returned. After that he explored the house more, keeping out of Arthur's bedroom out of respect. The didn't take nearly as long as Alfred had hoped, so then he just took the elf's advice and plopped down into one of the chairs, relaxing. He ended up falling asleep, and was woken later by a kiss.

"Mmm?" He opened his eyes to see Arthur leaning back, cheeks slightly flushed and eyes averted. "Hey there!" Grinning, he reached out and pulled Arthur down into his lap.

"Hell-  _oh_!" Arthur went down with a little shriek, and he immediately whacked him in the shoulder. "Alfred!"

Laughing, Alfred nuzzled him. "You gave it back, then? It's all done?"

"Y-Yes." Arthur placed a hand on Alfred's cheek and shoved it lightly away from himself. "Oh, stop that, you great big puppy!"

"If you think I'm a big puppy, you should see Al sometimes," he said, and then suddenly sobered up. It was over now. And he wasn't even sure exactly what he had with Arthur...

The elf noticed the change. "What's wrong?"

"...Nah, it's nothing," Alfred said, forcing a smile. He could deal with those problems later.

The two of them stayed up talking for another few hours, after which Arthur ate and then the two of them went off to sleep. Arthur of course went to his room, while Alfred crashed in one of the guest. He would have preferred to sleep with the elf, but didn't quite know how to breach the matter. The solution came to him a few nights later, when he dashed into Arthur's room after having a nightmare. During the days Alfred worked on his swordsmanship and magic, as well as going to the library to read and spend time with Arthur, for he worked there. That day he had come across a dark scroll, and he was still nervous about it.

"Arthur!" he hissed, standing over the bed.

"What." Arthur's tone was not amused.

"Can I sleep with you?" Not waiting for an answer, he slipped into the bed and wrapped himself around the elf. "I'm kinda scared and I thought you might need some protection or something-"

"Alfred.  _You_  were scared so you came here because  _I_  might need protection?"

"Yeah!"

"Right." Arthur shook his head but curled into him. "You may stay here for tonight...and...perhaps stay with me for longer?"

"What?" Alfred was instantly more awake.

"I mean if you would like to, and if you don't have anywhere else to be?" Arthur said quickly.

"Stay with you for longer as in...live here? With you?"

"Yes..."

"Arthur, that'd be awesome!" Alfred cried, grinning broadly in the darkness. He'd been worrying for days about this, and here Arthur was offering such a simple solution. "I'd love to stay with you!"

Arthur hugged him tighter. "You've grown on me, damn Rider," he muttered. "I think I'd miss you horribly if you left."

"Really? Aww, Arthur!" Alfred moved so he was hanging over him. By the faint moonlight streaming in from the windows, the elf's eyes looked incredibly green. "I like you, Artie." he whispered. "A lot. And I'll stay as long as you'll have me here."

"I like you too, Alfred. I'll have you here with me for a very long time." And Arthur leaned up to seal the promise with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hate Dras-Leona. It's creepy. But I enjoyed writing this, so there's a small possibility that there might be more adventures with these guys later! (And we might see Matt and Mattie too~) But I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Oh, and since 2P Al is a vegetarian, let's just say his...'hunting' consists of him persuading people to give up some food and drink for him. He's also especially fond of Alfred's vegetable stew, though he will actually hunt and eat meat if he absolutely needs to; he is a dragon, after all~


	10. An Unusual Bouquet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Valentine's Day! And Alfred's got a surprise for Arthur. Inspiration came from a tumblr post.

As soon as Alfred saw the bouquet, he knew he had to get it for Arthur. His English boyfriend would most likely murder him in a very painful and possibly public way, but he couldn't resist getting it. He found it online, but luckily there were still two weeks to Valentine's Day so there was only a slim chance that it wouldn't get there on time.

He quickly ordered it and then sat back in his wheely chair, spinning on it triumphantly. He got dizzy after a while so he stopped, but the grin stayed on his face. He deleted his browser history, knowing that Arthur might check it later. Then he had over half an hour to kill before Arthur came home and upon some consideration decided to just make dinner to save them some time later.

He had just finished setting the table and had put the kettle on when he heard the door open and close. "Artie!" he cried, whirling to face him with a smile.

"Good evening, Alfred," Arthur responded, setting down his messenger bag and hanging up his coat before moving to their small kitchen. "You made pasta?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah! Feli taught me how to make it real quick and good!" Alfred replied, walking over to meet and hug him. "It's got chicken and broccoli in it too, so you don't complain it's entirely unhealthy. And that really good brand of Alfredo sauce."

Arthur smiled and gave him a chaste kiss. "Mmm, that sounds lovely."

"How was it in class?" Alfred asked, releasing him and going over to pull out a chair for him with a mock bow.

"Git," Arthur commented as he took his seat. "It was tiring. Those utter  _idiots_  completely misinterpreted the text," he muttered, scowling darkly. "They're so wrapped up in their romantic fantasies, especially during this time of year that they can't seem to distinguish any other themes, even if they're right under their bloody noses!"

Alfred chuckled and ruffled up his hair. "You're so cute when you get passionate and annoyed." He grinned and ducked the hit Arthur sent his way in response. The kettle started to whistle after that, so Alfred quickly went over and made tea the way he knew Arthur liked it. "So uhh...dig in," he said when they were both settled. He pushed the pasta bowl to him.

"Thank you, Alfred." Arthur loaded his plate and tasted it, a small smile coming to his face. "So you can cook things not dripping in fat."

Alfred grinned and scarfed down the rest.

After they finished eating, Alfred washed the dishes while Arthur went off to start on his coursework. Alfred knew he should get started on his own assignments, but he didn't feel like it so he just plopped down onto their shared bed and watched the other blond. Sure enough, Arthur casually opened up the browsing history. At first Alfred had been skeptical as to why he did it, but by now he knew it was just to check to make sure they weren't going on potentially virus-hosting sites.

"You spent half an hour Google-searching unusual bouquets?" he asked flatly.

Cursing internally, Alfred plastered a grin on his face. He must have forgotten to clear that page from his history. "Some guys were talking about different kinds of ridiculous bouquets they were gonna get and I wanted to see 'em so I looked it up."

"Mmm." Arthur seemed to accept his explanation as he pulled up a blank Word document. "Were you satisfied with what you found?"

"Yeah, there were some pretty crazy ones." Alfred laughed loudly. "How long do you think this'll take you?"

"I only have to start it, so no more than an hour." Arthur glanced to him before starting to flip through the pages of the book he was to analyze.

Alfred watched him for a while more and then rose, grabbing his cell phone before moving to the other room. He knew that Arthur was a romantic but wasn't outgoing or too expressive about it, so there was very little to no chance he was going to plan anything for Valentine's Day, or even get anything for Alfred because he claimed everything was so silly and generic, but Alfred didn't mind. So it was up to him to do something. But he already had a plan, and keeping his voice quiet so Arthur wouldn't here, made reservations at a place he knew his boyfriend would like.

When Arthur was finished, he allowed Alfred to cuddle to him for a while before they washed up and went to bed. Over the next few days he noticed that Alfred was acting a bit weird, but he brushed it off as Valentine's Day jitters. He knew that Alfred was most likely planning something so he didn't bother, except to get Alfred red and blue heart and firework sugar cookies because he knew the American would love them.

The unicorn bouquet arrived a few days before the 14th, and Alfred had to figure out a place to hide it. Eventually he just shoved it into the back corner of his closet, where even neat-freak Arthur was afraid to go. He looked over the green and blue unicorns briefly before grinning. Arthur was gonna love them (secretly, of course).

"Whatever you're looking for in there, I doubt you'll find it." Arthur's voice came from the doorway.

Alfred started a bit and hit his head on a shelf, hurrying to cover the bouquet along the way. "Ow! Don't do that, Artie! An' don't worry, I know  _exactly_  where everything is."

Arthur scoffed. "That too I doubt," he said, raising an eyebrow when Alfred stepped out and quickly shut the door. "Given up?"

"Sure. Hey, do you have off on Valentine's Day?"

"No, but I do get out early." Arthur decided not to question the speedy change of subject.

"Before five?"

"At four-thirty. Why, do you have something planned?"

Alfred just winked.

"I see. And if I was not free then, what would you have done, hmm?"

"Kidnapped you." Alfred grinned and kissed him.

* * *

Valentine's Day dawned crisp and clear, and Alfred woke with a bounce to his step. He got ready and had breakfast cooking on the stove by the time Arthur even stirred. He was almost finished when the water from the shower stopped. Moments later he heard quiet footsteps padding into the kitchen but he didn't take his attention off the stove.

"Good morning." Arthur murmured, coming up to stand beside him. "Red velvet pancakes?" he asked, peering into the skillet. "...In heart shapes?"

"It's Valentine's Day, babe. What did you expect?" Alfred slung an arm across his shoulders and, grinning, pressed a kiss to the side of his head. "Happy Valentine's Day," he whispered.

"You too, I suppose," Arthur muttered, fidgeting a bit. He was clad in nothing but his towel, so a few minutes later he lightly pushed away. "Let me dress, idiot."

"Mm...no." Alfred flipped the pancakes expertly onto a plate and then rushed to hug him properly. His arms went around Arthur's waist and, ignoring Arthur's cry of surprise, lifted him up.

"A-Alfred!" His legs automatically went around Alfred's waist for support, and the towel loosened dangerously. "What are you doing?!"

"Stop complaining," Alfred muttered, hitching him up higher. "Ya like it."

"A-Ack!" Arthur's arms snaked around the American's neck. "Idiot, a little warning would be nice, you know." he said haughtily, and then closed the distance between them to kiss him.

Alfred kissed back hungrily. To make sure he didn't miss any working time because of his shortened day Arthur had stayed later the past few nights so Alfred barely saw him, not to mention any action. So now it was time to cash in, and Alfred collected all the affection he felt he had missed out on. He turned them slightly to the side so Arthur was propped up against the counter and then continued, pulling away from the Englishman's mouth to press searing kisses to his throat and collarbone. Arthur's skin was still warm from the shower, and Alfred licked off a few stray drops of water that remained on his upper half.

"Ahh, Alfred-" Arthur leaned into him, his hands closing into fists in the taller male's hair. His legs tightened around Alfred's hips, close to bruising force, and he moaned. "Al- Alfred, I've got ahh- got class- can't-"

Alfred growled but slowed his actions until he was simply hugging his lover. "Just you wait until tonight," he whispered into Arthur's ear. "You won't get away then."

"I won't have a reason to." Arthur kissed his cheek. "Let me down."

Pouting softly, Alfred stepped away from the counter and started lowering him. Arthur's legs unwrapped from around him and he landed lightly on the floor. The towel slipped more around his hips and Alfred watched it eagerly, but (un)fortunately it stayed on him.

"Oh yes, you're so virtuous," Arthur commented, rolling his eyes, having seen the look in Alfred's eyes. "The ever-pure hero."

"Shush. Go get changed before I...convince you to stay home from school," Alfred muttered at him, starting on another heart pancake.

Arthur chuckled and left the room, fixing the towel around his waist. He came back a few minutes later dressed appropriately for his classes; slacks, a nice white dress shirt, a green and brown sweater, and a dark green tie. "How many of those are you planning on making?"

"Last batch." Alfred glanced at him. "You're like the only person I know who can make an old man look be sexy," he said, flipping the last pancake onto a plate and then setting the plate in front of Arthur. "There ya go!"

"Thank you. I'll let the old man comment slide for today, but only because it's Valentine's Day."

"Heh. Ya want some whipped cream with those?"

"All right, give it here- but  _I'll_  pour it."

"You can't pour whipped cream, silly." Alfred topped off his own, larger stack before passing the can to Arthur.

They ate quickly, with Arthur handing his final two pancakes to Alfred. After that he had to rush to class, a parting kiss lingering upon his lips and Alfred's promise to pick him up echoing in his ears.

When he was alone, Alfred started putting his plan into action. To begin with, he cleaned the whole house, paying special attention to their bedroom. Then he skipped of to their friend's ('friend' being a flexible term for Arthur) Francis's flower shop to get the roses he had ordered. The shop was crowded, or course, but Alfred didn't mind waiting a bit.

" _Bonjour_ , Alfred!" Francis said happily when Alfred finally reached the counter. "What are you planning with all those roses,  _mon ami_? Your order is almost the largest."

Alfred grinned. "A surprise later. Hey, could you tell me how to keep the rose petals extra fresh until the evening?"

After Francis explained, he sent Alfred off with the roses and an extra package of cherries in chocolate and liquor. "He is fun when he is just slightly tipsy." Having known Arthur for a long time, Francis knew him well.

Blushing faintly because of the Frenchman's words and almost staggering beneath the weight of the flowers and petals, he made his way home. After following Francis's instructions with the petals and sticking the bouquet in water, he glanced at the clock and saw it was almost two. He paced the kitchen for a while, trying to figure out what they could eat, before giving up and deciding to throw together some pasta later. Since he had time he made himself a bath and soaked in it for a long time. When he was sure he was clean he hopped out and dressed, taking out the unicorn bouquet along the way. Dressing in dark jeans and a nice shirt, he stepped out with a little less than an hour to spare.

As he strolled leisurely through the streets, he saw lots of couples either kissing in darkened places, sharing meals in cafes, or just walking and holding hands. He grinned brightly at them if they looked at him, but otherwise didn't pay them much attention. He arrived at the university hall with about twenty minutes before Arthur was due to come out. Spotting a bench by the door and in the shade he changed direction towards it and sat down, leaning back and closing his eyes. He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, he was being shaken.

"Alfred." Arthur's voice became clearer in his ears. "Jones, get up."

"Hmm?" Alfred opened his eyes and grinned up at his lower. "Ey, you got out already?" He reached forward and pulled Arthur between his legs, his hands on the Englishman's hips.

"What are you doing?" Arthur's hands went to Alfred's shoulders, but just for support. "There are people here, this is hardly the place."

Alfred ignored him and stood up so that Arthur was pressed flush against him. Grinning, he leaned down to press a kiss to his mouth. "Let's go?" he asked when he pulled away.

"Where are we going?" Arthur stepped away from him, but linked their arms together.

"You'll see." Alfred took off at a brisk pace, keeping Arthur engaged enough in conversation the whole time that he didn't even notice the passing time.

Then, Arthur stopped. "No," he said, staring at the swaying sign.  _The Imperial Tearoom_ , it declared. "You didn't, Alfred."

Alfred grinned some more and nudged him. "I did," he said smugly. He unhooked their arms and opened the door to the tearoom for him. "I know you wanted to come here."

"But it's so expensive..."

"You're worth it." Alfred led him into the tearoom and they were shown to a small table in the corner with plush seats for the both of them. Grinning again, Alfred pulled Arthur's chair out for him, bowing a little as he sat. Same as the night two weeks before, he dodged a hit, laughing. "So what do you think?" he asked as he took his own seat.

"It's lovely," Arthur murmured, looking around.

The tearoom was a good size, but not excessively large. The walls were painted full of murals of the English countryside, and there were fresh roses on all of the tables because of the occasion. It had opened a few months ago and quickly garnered a reputation for being a high-end place to go out for a light lunch/dinner or just a tea break. Arthur had been ecstatic when he heard about it, but the prices had turned him away.

"Glad ya do." Alfred smiled at him and picked up his menu. "So uhh...tea. Any recommendations?"

Arthur chuckled. "You could just go for normal Earl Grey. I recall you saying that it was 'okay' once. Or Lady Grey, if you're feeling bold."

"Right..." Alfred scanned the long list of teas, finding the two Arthur had named near the bottom, and on the low end of the price range. "I'll go with the Earl Grey. Can't go wrong with a familiar taste, right? What are you gonna get?"

"I'm not sure... I'm interested in the rosehip and blackcurrant tea..." Arthur said absentmindedly as he looked down the list.

"Sure. Get whatever you want."

The server came by not long after to take their orders. The rest of their time passed nicely, with Arthur helping Alfred brew his tea properly when it came, and even nudging the American's foot back when Alfred started a game of footsie. Alfred refused to divulge any of his other plans, and always steered the conversation to another topic, usually school. When they had both finished their pots Arthur glanced slightly wistfully down at his so when they were leaving Alfred bought him a small tin from the store part of the tearoom. The Englishman protested but Alfred insisted, and in the end won.

"You really shouldn't have," Arthur told him for the third time as they walked along back to their small apartment. He felt guilty, not really having anything for Alfred in return other than the cookies, and those really didn't seem like much now. He just didn't do a lot for this holiday, and here Alfred was giving so much.

"Artie..." Alfred groaned, slinging an arm across his shoulders. "I told you already, I wanted to do it." He pressed a kiss to the side of his head, miraculously while still managing to move the two forward at a surprisingly steady speed. "It's really all ri-OOH!" He suddenly let go and dashed towards a display. "Look!"

Arthur followed him at a much slower pace. "What is it now?" He peered at what Alfred was practically drooling over and then rolled his eyes. It was a massive white teddy bear (it must have been at least half of Alfred's height) with pink and red hearts all over it, holding a red heart with the words 'Be mine?' written in white calligraphy.

"I've always wanted one, as cheesy as that sounds," Alfred told him. Then, he seemed to realize that Arthur was probably neither amused nor interested, and he turned away. "Let's go..."

But Arthur's hand shot out and clamped down on Alfred's wrist. "...Would you like it?" he asked softly, his eyes not leaving the teddy bear.

Alfred swallowed. "Yeah. But you don't-"

"Hush." Arthur tugged him into the store.  _Before I change my mind._  "You've already given me so much."

"Aww, Artie, you don't have to get me anything in return." Alfred leaned in close to his ear. "Your company plus hot sex with me topping later is good enough."

Arthur lightly smacked him away. "You devil," he muttered, before requesting the teddy bear from the display of the lady behind the counter.

Minutes later, they walked out of the store, Alfred grinning and cuddling to the teddy bear. People gave them smiles and chuckles; Alfred smiled back brightly, while Arthur glared at them until they were forced to look away. They go home- well, Alfred did. He blocked the door and wouldn't let Arthur in.

"You gotta wait a few minutes!" Alfred told him, right before slamming the door in his face.

"A-Alfred!" Arthur banged on the door, but there was no answer. "Stupid, insufferable git, locking me out, Alfred, open up!"

"Just wait!" Alfred's voice faintly came from through the door.

Arthur sighed and leaned against the hall opposite, glaring. The time passed and he was just losing his temper when the door opened again. Alfred was standing there, an apologetic smile on his face.

"Hey."

"Don't you stand there and 'hey' me," Arthur snapped darkly. "May I  _please_  come in now?"

"Yeah, of course! Just wanted to set some things up." Alfred backed away from the door a bit, and it became clear he was hiding something behind his back.

"What are you doing now?" Arthur asked, entering the apartment. Instantly, his nose was assaulted with the scent of roses.

"Last part of my plan!" Alfred replied, thrusting a bouquet into his face as he closed the door.

Arthur blinked as he accepted a bouquet of...unicorns? "Alfred?" he asked, his voice highly polite. "Why?"

"Well..." Alfred fidgeted a bit, and then smiled hopefully. "You like unicorns, right? And I saw it and thought it'd be perf for you..."

"...Alfred. They're bloody  _unicorns_." Arthur sighed and shook his head. "I swear, only you would think of giving your lover a bouquet of unicorns for Valentine's Day."

Alfred's face fell a bit. "...So you don't like it?" he asked in a small voice.

"Oh Alfred..." Arthur looked up at him, and clutched the bouquet to him just a little bit tighter. "I didn't say that," he said quietly. "I merely pointed out the fact that it is an unusual... Is that why you were looking up unusual bouquets?"

"Haha, yeah." Alfred rubbed the back of his neck. "But you like it?"

"It's all right..." Arthur looked down at the unicorns - there were twelve of them in all, blue and green in colour - and a tiny, almost imperceptible smile came to his lips as he reached out to touch one of them.

"Glad you like it, but that's not the end of it, don't worry." Alfred relaxed in relief and tugged Arthur into the kitchen, where a pot of pasta was simmering. The roses were on the table, and Alfred gave those to him too. "For you as well."

Arthur's eyes widened. "A-Alfred, really, this is too much..."

Alfred took the roses and unicorns from his arms and hugged him, one of his hands reaching up to cup the back of Arthur's head. "Artie, it's all right. I wanted to do it all for you," he said, fingers tangling lightly into Arthur's hair. "I told you, I don't need anything in return, so don't feel guilty or anything."

"Idiot." Arthur mumbled against him. "If I were to get you nothing, that would make me truly horrible." He slipped from Alfred's arms and went over to the pantry, where he took out the large box of cookies from where they had been hidden. "These are for you. It's not much, but-"

"Whoa whoa whoa. Stop right there. Are those the really good sugar cookies? In a really big set?" Alfred's eyes went wide and he took the box reverently. "They are!"

"Err..." Arthur didn't really know what to make of his reaction. He knew Alfred liked sweets, but this level of adoration for a box of cookies was something else entirely.

Alfred looked to him and grinned. "You know that one brand of everything that's just so much better than all the other ones? Like, your favourite brand of tea, or how that Alfredo sauce is so much better than the others?"

"Yes...?"

"Well this brand of sugar cookies is like that. They're so much better than all the others, and a box like this..." Alfred pretended to wipe a tear from his cheek. "It's awesome, thanks so much!" He placed the box gently onto the table and wrapped Arthur into a massive hug, peppering his cheeks and the side of his head with kisses.

"Alfred-!" Arthur laughed, the kisses tickling him a tiny bit in some spots, but he was happier that Alfred liked what he'd gotten him. His arms went around the American in return, and they cuddled briefly.

Then, Alfred pulled away. "Oop, pasta's ready," he said apologetically, and moved to the stove to strain the noodles and then pour the simmering sauce over them after putting them in a big bowl. "Not a very grand dinner, but..."

"It's fine, love." Arthur smiled at him. Then, his eyes were drawn to a splash of red against the floor. He stepped closer- were those rose petals? His cheeks heated up when he realized they indeed were, and formed a trail off to their bedroom. "...Alfred?"

"Hmm?" Alfred glanced up and saw where he was looking. "Oh, that's like the final final part of the plan. Come eat, and you can follow it in a bit." He set the table and poured them each a bit of red wine, placing the chocolates Francis gave him next to the pasta bowl.

Arthur raised an eyebrow once more when he saw them. "Chocolates?"

"A gift for us from Francis," Alfred explained. "For after dinner."

"Right." Arthur served the both of them some pasta and quickly started to eat, savouring the taste. "Feliciano taught you well."

"Didn't he?" Alfred asked with a smile. The food was gone from his plate in an impossibly short amount of time, and then when Arthur was done he took a piece of chocolate and lifted it to his lips.

Arthur took the offering, his tongue darting out to flick against Alfred's fingers along the way. "These are surprisingly good, for the frog," he commented. "And is that...alcohol?"

"Yeah!" Alfred grinned at him. "There's supposed to be cherries in there as well."

"I can taste them." Arthur swallowed and picked up one of the chocolates himself, holding it out to the American.

Alfred grinned as he took it. "So are we just gonna do that for the whole time?"

"For as long as you want," Arthur said. "But personally I'm rather curious to see what's at the end of that rose trail." He looked towards the door of the kitchen again, and gasped when he was suddenly picked up. "W-What are you doing?!" He hadn't even noticed Alfred getting up.

"Taking you there!" Alfred declared brightly, hitching him a bit higher in his arms before carrying him, bridal style, to their bedroom.

The rose petals were scattered in a long, thick trail through their apartment and leading up straight to the bed, which was made and surrounded by red candles. Arthur wanted to roll his eyes at the stereotypicalness of it all, but he knew Alfred meant well and had spent an awful lot of effort and time to plan this and set it up. So he allowed him to set him on the bed with minimal complaint, and even looked up at him with a small smile.

"I assume this means sex?"

Alfred grinned. "Well yeah, I told you. Awesome sex later with me topping is good."

"And how do you know I'll let you top?"

"...Because it's Val's Day? C'mon, at least one round!" Alfred put on his puppy dog eyes.

Arthur could only withstand them for a moment. "Oh all right."

Within minutes they had both lost their clothes and were moving together in a fast but easy rhythm.


	11. Oh the Woes of Birds for Their Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lil drabble I wrote up for triruntu on tumblr~!

The night was still young when Alfred entered the bar. The ornithologist looked around and spotted a free bar stool at the end of the long counter, in a darker, more secluded area of the room. Grinning at his luck he made his way over and claimed the seat before anyone else could happen to glance over. Once his drink was ordered and on the way, he took out his observational journals and went over his notes for the day.

The hazy lighting and soft music helped relax him and lull him into a pleasant mindset where he focused on his writing and his writing alone. His travels had taken him to England, so the pub quickly got quite rowdy and loud, though Alfred paid attention to none of it. He only looked up once when he called for another beer, and it just so happened that his glance corresponded with the only event that could have stolen his attention from his notes on seabirds; the arrival of a particular blond.

He judged the man to be of slightly smaller stature than he himself was, though with less muscle mass. Aforementioned blond hair, albeit messy, fell down his forehead and just barely covered a pair of prominent eyebrows. But what most captivated Alfred were the stranger's piercing green eyes. They were like a hawk's, or perhaps an osprey's. Some sort of bird of prey anyway, Alfred didn't specialize in that area.

The man, probably English, settled down in the stool next to Alfred and the American quickly averted his eyes. He swept his book away as well, his fingers wrapping around the rim of his glass. He nodded and the man nodded back before ordering. Ahh, so he was English.

Alfred fidgeted for a while, trying to think of what to say to start up conversation. He didn't see a band or anything around the other's finger. There was always his usual line, but he wasn't sure if he should attempt it with this man... After a few more moments of twitching and another two swigs of beer he leaned in.

"Hey there..."

The Englishman turned towards him, and at Alfred's insistent beckoning, leaned in a little as well. "Yes...?"

Alfred leaned in more, and when he spoke his voice was at a low, serious octave. "I study boobies."

There was silence for a moment while the blond processed his words. Funny, Alfred had usually gotten slapped by now.

"And I study Imperial Shags," the stranger then replied, and Alfred's mouth actually fell open a bit in shock.

Moments later, Alfred leaned away and started laughing. He didn't stop for a good five minutes, and when it was finally subsiding he noticed the stranger was chuckling as well. Good signs, good signs. He stuck out his hand.

"I'm Alfred. Alfred F. Jones."

"Arthur Kirkland," the man replied, shaking it firmly. Their hands fit perfectly together, though who was paying attention to that?

And Alfred went back to ignoring the sounds of the pub, though this time he had human company to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, some birds really have the most ridiculous of names...


	12. Tea Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> America asks England to come early for Christmas because he has a surprise for the other nation. But perhaps some surprises can be taken the wrong way...
> 
> USUK request for SconeButtocks on dA~ Theme was the Boston Tea Party and inspiration partially came from a tumblr post- Hope you enjoy. ^^

"Hey Artie!" Alfred's voice came enthusiastically through the phone. "You should come earlier for the holidays!"

"What?" The English nation did not appreciate being woken in the middle of the night by overexcited Americans, no matter how much he liked them. "No, Alfred, I can't. I've got work-"

"Oh, I already cleared it up with your boss and changed the tickets to tomorrow," Alfred told him cheerfully. "So you're flying over, and it leaves at like two-thirty."

Arthur instantly became more awake. " _What_? Alfred, it's the fourteenth of December, why the hell do you want me there so early?"

"Surprise," Alfred told him, and then hung up.

"Alf-" Arthur found himself speaking into an empty phone. He glanced at the time. Two thirty-eight in the morning. Grumbling, he put the phone down and drifted off again.

He was still grumbling the next morning as he packed, and on the plane - but there under his breath; he wouldn't dream of disturbing the older lady dozing off next to him - and the mutters hadn't ceased by the time he landed. Going through American customs was a pain- why the hell would he bring any seeds or plants or food? Alfred had enough, and the damn brat would probably be ungrateful to boot. However, his status as a nation and alias as diplomatic messenger speeded up the process and he was walking out to meet the American less than an hour after he landed.

Alfred brightened and started waving when he saw the Englishman, and Arthur frowned just a bit. He still wasn't sure exactly what his relationship was with Alfred. Of course, the English and American governments were on very good terms; a few years ago, the 'Special Relationship' status had even been renewed. But Arthur's personal relationship with Alfred was more complex. Arthur had come to terms (somewhat) with his slight attraction to the other, and he was fairly certain Alfred liked him even a little bit as well, but they never talked about it or anything. And Alfred always insisted that Arthur spend the holidays with him, though usually it ended up with him playing video games while Arthur worked through some of the papers he'd received from his boss.

"Good afternoon, Alfred."

"Hey!" Alfred wrapped him up in a short but warm hug. "How was your flight?"

"It was fine." Arthur's arms briefly went around Alfred in return, though he quickly let them hang loose. "Though you are an  _arse_ ," He elbowed Alfred in the side. "For springing the change on me with no warning."

Grunting slightly from the jab, Alfred let out a chuckle. "Yeah, well it was necessary. An' you get to spend more time with the hero during the holidays!"

"What fun," Arthur muttered, though his face showed more that he thought this was the farthest ides of fun he could imagine.

"Ain't it?" Alfred released him and grabbed his luggage. "C'mon, c'mon!"

"What's with the rush?"

"We've got places to be!" Alfred looked back at him excitedly.

There was, however, a glint in his blue eyes that sent small warning bells going off in Arthur's head. "Where are we going?"

"First Boston, then we're gonna spend Christmas and New Year's in New York. The party's gonna be the twenty-third this year." Alfred hauled him out of the airport and into his car.

"Boston?" Arthur frowned slightly. "Why Boston? And why the twenty-third?"

"There's lotsa stuff going on there before the holidays. An' the twenty-third cuz why not? People'll get to go and spend Christmas with who they want, then."

"You're being oddly considerate." Arthur gave him a sharp glance as they sped out of New York. Just because the Englishman recognized his crush didn't stop Alfred from being insensitive most of the time.

Alfred waited a moment to answer, swerving slightly around a slow driver. "Maybe I learned some stuff from you?" he finally replied, flashing him a smirk.

"That I doubt." Arthur shook his head and focused on the road.

It took them about four and a half hours to get to Boston. The journey was filled with slight arguments and pop music. The music, in fact, was the cause of their largest spat. Arthur couldn't take it after just under an hour, and after multiple declines from Alfred about changing the station they finally just shut it off and drove in silence. After about half an hour of that, Arthur caved in and turned the radio back on, muttering how the 'trash' was better than nothing. Smirking in victory, Alfred proceeded to belt out every song that played until Arthur thought he would go insane.

The English nation almost cried in relief when the Boston skyline came into view. "Finally..." he muttered. "Hotel or your place?"

"...Dude, do ya even gotta ask? My place, of course!" Alfred quickly maneuvered the car to the block his apartment was on. Penthouse, of course, though in a surprisingly modest building.

A small sense of uneasiness had been building up in Arthur's stomach since they entered the city, but he didn't quite know why so he dismissed it as the aftereffects of flying. Even so, his legs felt just slightly weaker than normal as he stepped out onto the curb, and he had to grab the door of the car to steady himself.

Alfred noticed and snickered. "Age gettin' to you, old man?"

"Not at all," Arthur snapped back. "It's merely jetlag. And since you seem to be in such fine shape, you may take my luggage up."

"...You don't usually have jetlag." Alfred frowned a bit as he grabbed the suitcase from the back.

"I also don't usually get woken in the middle of the night."

"...Right. Well c'mon, let's get his Royal Grumpiness up to bed." Alfred unlocked the door for him and ushered him up.

"Don't make me smack you," Arthur grumbled, though he held onto the railing moreso than he would normally.

"Don't make me  _laugh_." Alfred snickered some more.

They entered the house and Arthur immediately headed to the guest bedroom. Luckily Alfred seemed to get the message that he wanted to be left alone and didn't disturb him for the rest of the evening. Arthur simply changed into pajamas and went to bed; he was out in seconds.

* * *

The next morning, he woke with a headache. He groaned and turned to the side, massaging his neck lightly. He didn't think he had slept wrong, but there was no other reason for it. Still wincing at the light, he made his way to the kitchen, where Alfred was already waiting with breakfast.

"Oh hey Artie." Alfred grinned at him. "I just put the tea on. You want your usual?"

Arthur blinked. "Err...yes." Why was Alfred acting so strange? He never thought he'd see the day when the American made him his tea of his own volition. "Thank you..."

"No problem!" Minutes later, the water was boiling and the tea was ready. "So we're gonna go somewhere, then grab some food. You haven't ever been to Boston, have you?"

"I have, a long time ago. Before..." Arthur cut off as his head throbbed at the memory of that event.

"Welp, things have changed plenty, so I'll show you around!" Alfred frowned slightly at Arthur's wince. "You okay there?"

"Headache."

"Oh. Here." Alfred stood and rummaged around his upper cabinets before dropping an Advil onto the napkin before Arthur. "It should help." There was no way anything was going to ruin his fun, especially a headache on Arthur's end. He scarfed down his food quickly and then waited, impatient, for the other nation to finish as well.

"Thank you." Noticing him waiting, Arthur took his time even more. He finally sped up the process when he heard Alfred sigh for the third time.

"Finally..." Alfred moaned when Arthur finished. "Leggo! Leggo!" Barely giving Arthur enough time to place his dishes in the sink and put his coat on, he dragged him outside.

"Alfred-!"

But it was too late; they were out the door and down the street. The blocks passed in a blur, and since Arthur didn't know the city, there was nothing he could do but blindly follow Alfred. They ended up by the Boston Harbor, and Alfred leaned against the railing. He was grinning easily, face turned to catch the brisk breeze blowing across the waters. Arthur's head let out another rather painful throb.

"Nice day, huh?" Alfred asked, eyes closed.

"Yes, I suppose..." Arthur replied, shooting him a sideways glance. "Why are we here?"

"Nice day for some  _tea_." Alfred opened his eyes and lazily turned his head towards him. "Don't ya think?"

Arthur froze and winced as his head gave yet another throb. Why was he like this? He never felt this way unless someone mentioned-

"Nice day for a tea party."

Oh God. Of course, the date- December 16th. Arthur lurched forward and had to grasp onto the railing to keep himself from falling over. His headache pulsed with his every heartbeat, and he grew ever so slightly nauseous. "America-" What kind of a sick joke was this?

Alfred's grin widened slightly. "What? C'mon, it's a beautiful day, not too cold..." He rummaged around in his pocket and withdrew a small wrapped up package. "Here ya go."

Just managing to catch the parcel when Alfred tossed it, Arthur unwrapped it cautiously. His eyes narrowed and his fists clenched as he read the text on the bottle.  _Tea gathered from the shore of the Boston Harbor on the morning of December 17th, 1773_.

"Figured you'd maybe want some of it ba-"

He didn't get a chance to finish, for Arthur had slapped him. The English nation stood, chest heaving and leaning against the railing, a heavy scowl on his face- heavier than had appeared in a long time- though there was also half hidden pain in his eyes. "How dare you, America?" he managed to get out. "You think this is funny, bringing me to this damned city on this day to give me _this_?!" He clenched the bottle in his hand even tighter.

"England-"

But Arthur wasn't listening. He hurled the bottle to the ground at Alfred's feet, and though it cracked it did not break. "Are you laughing, America? Is this as funny as you planned?" A particularly strong throb flashed through Arthur's head and he closed his eyes, swaying slightly.

The amusement long gone from his face, Alfred had been unable to keep the bottle from hitting the ground, but now he reached forward to steady the other. "A-Arthur?"

"Piss off," Arthur snapped, jerking away from him. He glared up at Alfred for a moment more, slapped him again for good measure, and then turned away. His steps were slightly uneven, but his anger fueled him and kept him going.

"H-Hey!" Alfred took a step after him, but he had already managed to vanish into the crowd. The American sighed- it was already 240 years since the Boston Tea Party had happened! Really, how long could someone hold a grudge?

But... Arthur had been in pain all day - he'd heard that the nation got sick whenever something to do with his independence came up, but he never imagined it to be quite so bad - and he'd known Arthur long enough to somewhat get a sense of when he was hurt internally. Guilt slowly seeped into his stomach as he reached down to pick up the bottle. Sure his words had been slightly teasing and the idea came to him in the middle of the night after he'd drank a bit, but the gift had been serious. He thought that Arthur would appreciate getting some of the tea back...

Cursing softly, he tucked the bottle away and set off to find him. And apologize.

* * *

Arthur had found his way to a random park not too far away, and he collapsed onto a bench there. Gradually his headache faded away into something slightly more bearable, and his nausea passed. But he was still furious. He had thought that  _perhaps_  Alfred had matured some, but it seemed that was not the case. No, but of course Alfred didn't really care how much pain he caused - especially to Arthur - as long as he got a rousing laugh out of it. The Englishman cursed himself for liking him at all, much less romantically. Minutes passed, he didn't know how many, and he suddenly felt a touch on his shoulder. Speak of the devil. Glancing up, he locked eyes with Alfred.

He jerked back. "Go away."

"No," Alfred replied, his voice oddly subdued. He sat down next to him on the bench and grabbed his hand when Arthur tried to move away. "I'm sorry..."

"As I said before, piss off." Alfred struggled in his grip, the headache spiking again.

Alfred held onto him tightly before pulling him into a hug. "No, no, Artie stop it please, I'm sorry-" He buried his chin in Arthur's hair. "I- I was stupid, okay?"

Slowly, Arthur stopped struggling though he did not relax. "You're just saying that- I have half a mind to leave now, go back to my house so I don't have to deal with your foolishness."

"Don't! Please don't, England, I mean it! I wanna spend the holidays with you!"

"Then why the bloody hell did you take me there?" Arthur managed to shove away and sat glaring up at him.

Alfred looked down. "I thought you'd be over it by now kinda! I didn't know you'd get that sick! An'- An' the bottle was serious! I gathered 'em up myself... I know you're really pissed, but please don't leave..." He gave Arthur the puppy eyes.

The other nation tried to resist, but in the end crumbled. Damn him and his blasted eyes. "...Don't think I've forgiven you, America," he muttered. "But fine, I won't leave just yet."

"Yes!" Alfred immediately brightened and hugged him again, pressing a kiss to the top of his hair along the way. "You won't regret staying, I know you won't! I'll make sure of it!" He rose and tugged Arthur up as well, dragging him back to his apartment.

And Arthur, dazed by the kiss but with a small warmth growing in his chest (though he still felt faintly pissed off and felt the matter was unresolved completely), could do nothing more but follow behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, the date of the Tea Party was December 16th, and just pretend that this fic takes place in December of 2013. And I know Arthur probably wouldn't get such a strong reaction on the anniversary of that even, but hey it adds to the story.


	13. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alfred isn't the thinnest person ever, and he knows it. One night, his thoughts turn darker than usual and Arthur has to show him that his weight and body type don't matter in how much he loves his silly American.
> 
> Co-written with SconeButtocks. We wanted some Chubby!Alfred fluff~ This is one of my favourites and is close to my heart.

Alfred could usually ignore the slight stares people gave him. They didn't whisper or anything, but they stared and that was enough. Normally Alfred just immersed himself in his music or whichever comic book he was reading at the time, but it was worse on the days they had a slotted day in the weight room. The slots went by apartment blocks, and the blond American both looked forward to those days and dreaded them.

Sure, he was strong and worked out enough, but... There was a small-ish layer of chub around his stomach and thighs that was just there, and if it minimized at all by his workouts, it was an almost unnoticeable change. And in the weight room, when he wore shorts and a t-shirt, it was more noticeable. It didn't help that the other guys who used the room were all ripped, and on those days his self esteem really took a hit. They glanced at him  _just_  a bit more, and gave him a  _little_  more space than was necessary in the locker room- he had the whole row to himself- and try as he might not to dwell on the little poisonous thoughts in the back of his mind, some of them managed to slip through.

He had their small campus apartment to himself for now, as his roommate/boyfriend Arthur was still at classes and wouldn't be back for another half an hour at least. Arthur had a nice body, he thought as he just grabbed a pear and took it to his bed. He wasn't hungry much for anything else at the moment anyway. The Englishman was thin and small- well, smaller than Alfred- and he had nicely defined muscles. Especially in his nether regions. Sometimes, during his low points, Alfred still couldn't quite believe they were together, because surely Arthur could easily find himself a better and thinner person.

Half an hour later Alfred was curled up under his sheets, headphones over his ears, the pear sitting untouched on the nightstand next to him.

Arthur meanwhile sighed as he walked back to his dorm after yet another exhausting lesson. Walking into the dim room, he surveyed the area. "Alfred? I'm back."

Having heard the door close through his music, Alfred pulled out one of the headphones. "Hey there. How was it?" he asked, his voice just a tiny bit less emotion-filled than usual.

"All right, I suppose. A little tiring." The green eyed man scrutinized Alfred, setting down his bag and his camera as he sat on the end of his bed. "You?"

"Was all right." Alfred rolled over to face him, pulling the covers up a bit higher. He gave Arthur a small grin and shut his iPod off completely.

Arthur replied with a slight smile, tilting his head to look at his boyfriend. "That's good."

"Yeah!" Alfred gave a slightly off-sounding laugh and wriggled a bit beneath the covers. "So, are ya hungry or something?"

Letting out a small huff, Arthur raised an eyebrow at the man. "Yeah, pretty hungry..."

"All right, I can make you something!" Alfred got up and moved quickly to the kitchen. "Whatcha want?

"Anything is fine, really." He sighed, before leaning back and looking at Alfred. "As long as it's not any of your unhealthy crap."

Alfred flinched almost unnoticeably, before forcing a grin. "It ain't all unhealthy," he muttered, and moved to the kitchen. "How's fried rice?"

"That sounds good." Arthur swung his legs onto his bed, propping himself up against the headboard to read his newest book.

Nodding and getting out the necessary ingredients, Alfred set about preparing the rice. It took him about five minutes, and while he was serving he took a few bites, but otherwise took the rest of it to Arthur. It was in a large green and blue bowl, with a fork for him to eat it.

"Here ya go!" he said, placing the bowl onto Arthur's nightstand.

Arthur looked up from  _Silence of the Lambs_ , before quickly bookmarking his page and sitting up straight to eat. After a couple of forkfuls, he cast his eye over Alfred. "...Are you not having any?"

"Not hungry..."

The Junior furrowed his brow at the man. "All right..."

"Yeah!" Alfred gave him another forced grin and retreated back to his bed, burrowing under the covers again.

His eyes following Alfred to his bed, Arthur noticed a uneaten pear on his bedside table. That really was odd... "Alfred?" he said tentatively. "Are you feeling all right?"

"H-Huh?" Alfred jumped a bit. "Yeah, I'm fine!"

Arthur jumped a little, taking a small step back. "Are you sure?" He steadily approached Alfred, pressing a hand to his forehead. "You don't have a temperature..."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Alfred repeated in a lower tone. "No need to worry!"

Humming suspiciously, Arthur drew back slightly. "If you insist..."

"Mhm!" Alfred nodded vigorously and wriggled a tiny bit away from him.

Noticing this, the older man stepped back further and sat back down on the edge of his bed. "Did... Did you want to sleep? I can give you some peace and quiet if you want..."

Alfred quickly sat up. "What? No, I'm fine." He smiled and suddenly got up to go over and take the bowl. "Here, I can wash that..."

"Ah, okay..." Arthur blinked a little out of his musing.

Alfred took it from him and washed it. When he glanced back at Arthur, the Englishman had stretched out again and was reading. His eyes slipped to Arthur's body and he stared wistfully at it.

Turning the page, Arthur caught Alfred's eye and smiled, adding a raised eyebrow to go with it.

Alfred jerked back a bit and turned his face away, looking ashamed. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"What?" Arthur frowned at the other. "What for?"

"Starin'..."

"You don't have to be." Arthur put his book down and went to stand in front of Alfred, gently taking the other's wrist in his hand. "We've been together almost eight months, you know I don't mind."

"I know," Alfred mumbled, looking away from him.

Leaning more towards Alfred, Arthur took his chin in his own hand and brought Alfred's face towards him, locking eyes with the man. "Alfred, what's wrong?"

"N-Nothing." Alfred moved back a bit.

Arthur softly pulled Alfred's wrist towards him. "Come on, what is it? I don't believe 'nothing' for a second."

"It's nothing, not important." Alfred pulled away again.

"Fine, I won't pressure you." Arthur loosened his grip, but still held his hand there. "But I still hope you'd tell me... Well, just know you can tell me anything you need to, anyway. I'm here for you, after all."

"I-I..." Alfred looked steadfastly at the ground. "Why'd ya want me when you can have someone better?"  _Someone skinnier..._

Arthur blinked, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at Alfred, before sighing softly and stroking the other's cheek. "Alfred... I don't see anyone better. It's you that I like, so it's you that's best."

"B-But look at me." Alfred sniffed and bit his lip harshly to keep his emotions in check. He twisted his body slightly away from Arthur. "You could get someone...else," he mumbled.

"Well, I don't want someone else," Arthur said simply, furrowing his brows, ducking to look at Alfred better. "What exactly is wrong with you?"

Alfred gestured vaguely at his stomach and thighs.

Giving Alfred a once-over, Arthur then cupped his lover's face, locking green eyes onto blue. "Alfred... I still don't see anything wrong with you."

Eyes shut now and flinching slightly, Alfred guided Arthur's hand down to pinch at the layer of chub. "That..." he managed to get out.

Arthur's eyes saddened and he leaned forwards to give Alfred a kiss to the cheek, resting a hand on his shoulder. "'That' doesn't matter."

"But it does," Alfred whispered, though he ever so slightly leaned into him.

"Why?" Arthur pulled back slightly to rest their foreheads together. "How good you are or how wonderful you are or how damn perfect you are isn't measured by your body. And I think you're all three."

A lone tear slipped down Alfred's cheek from beneath his closed lids. "B-But..."

"But what?" The older man ran a hand down Alfred's cheek before slipping his arms around the other's waist. "What matters is for you to feel comfortable with yourself, Alfred. Not whether you're a size 4 or not."

Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur in return and buried his nose into the Englishman's neck, shoulders shaking a little bit. "Matters t'me what you think..."

"Well I think you're beautiful," Arthur murmured back, laying a gentle kiss on the other's hair.

Alfred whimpered a bit, hugging him tighter.

"What? Don't you believe me?"

After a moment's hesitation, Alfred gave the very slightest shake of his head. "N-Not completely..."

Giving Alfred a sigh and a slight squeeze, Arthur stepped away, thinking for a moment as he retook Alfred's hand. "Come on, I'll prove it to you," he said, leading Alfred to the bathroom.

"W-What are you doing?"

"We're taking a bath."

"What?" Alfred stopped in his tracks. "You don't gotta, Artie, really."

"Come on." Arthur tugged Alfred's hand encouragingly. "I want to," he said in a softer tone.

"A-All right." Alfred moved forward again. He could never refuse his Arthur anything. His other hand reached up to quickly wipe at his eyes and to dry them.

Giving the man a soft smile, Arthur walked them into the bathroom and started to draw a bath, adding some soap to the water. Alfred meanwhile sat down meekly on the toilet seat, watching him from beneath the fringe of his hair. Once the bath had run, Arthur turned to him, holding out his hand to pull the other up. Alfred took it and stood, flinging his arms around the other to hug him tightly.

Reactions delayed in surprise, Arthur chuckled and held Alfred in return. "Come on, we can't get into the bath clothed."

"Guess not..." Alfred unbuttoned the Englishman's shirt and lightly slipped it off his shoulders.

Glancing down at Alfred's hands for a moment, Arthur pulled on the hem of Alfred's sweatshirt, tugging him closer. "Hey, you too," he said warmly.

But Alfred's fingers faltered and he jerked back, shaking his head quickly.

Arthur followed him a step, gently taking hold of his arm and lifting it towards himself. "Hey, it's all right."

Alfred shut his eyes and hesitated for a moment, but then took a step forwards and nodded. "Okay," he said in a quiet tone.

A smile twitched at Arthur's mouth, and he softly reached for Alfred's hoodie, pulling it up. "Arms up." he instructed as he lifted it up.

Obediently lifting his arms for him, Alfred snuffled a bit when the piece of clothing went up and over his head, catching on his nose for a moment. When it was gone he blinked owlishly and patted his hair down. He gave Arthur a small, hesitant smile.

Arthur grinned warmly back, encouraging the other. Taking hold of the hem of his t-shirt, Arthur gave him a questioning look.

"Yeah..." Alfred nodded again and quickly stripped Arthur of his shirt altogether.

Softly, Arthur leaned down and lifted the other's tee, kissing his stomach as he did so. As he lifted the shirt up, he laid gentle pecks upon the other's torso.

Whimpering softly, Alfred felt more tears dripping down his cheeks. "Y-You don't gotta do that..."

"I want to," Arthur murmured as he reached Alfred's lips, and he pressed a slightly firmer kiss upon them before pulling the shirt over Alfred's head.

Alfred kissed back eagerly, wrapping his arms around Arthur's neck. Smiling to Alfred's lips, Arthur held his hands at the other's hips, pulling him just that bit closer. Pulling away, Alfred nuzzled to his neck, his hands moving down to Arthur's pants, fingers expertly undoing the button and opening the zipper.

Arthur chuckled, lifting a hand to Alfred's hair, still running the other along his side.

Sighing happily, Alfred leaned into his touch and swiftly pulled his pants and boxers down. "You're uhh...you're gonna have to step outta them," he mumbled.

"I got that much," Arthur replied with a nuzzle to the blond hair, kicking his pants out of the way as he ran his fingers along the waistband of Alfred's, coming to rest at his zipper.

Alfred stilled for a split second, but then nodded against him, moving as close to Arthur as was possible.

Arthur gave the other a comforting kiss to the neck, undoing and slipping down his pants and underpants.

Letting out a small whine at the kiss, Alfred moved back once he was undressed. "Sh-Should I get in first?" he asked, turning his body away from Arthur.

"If you want to," Arthur replied, moving closer behind Alfred and laying a soft kiss on his shoulder.

"Yeah..." Alfred tilted his head back so it brushed against Arthur's for a brief moment before he stepped carefully into the tub, trying not to pay attention to how much the water level rose. He played around with the bubbles for a few moments and once he was settled he held a hand out to Arthur.

Smiling at his antics, Arthur gladly took it and stepped in with Alfred, slowly sitting in front of the other man.

Alfred's eyes were trained on Arthur's body the whole time, and he lifted his other hand to run his fingers down the curve of Arthur's shoulders all the way past his ribs and down to his hips.

Looking back at Alfred, Arthur flashed him a soft smile and left a few kisses on the hand he was holding. "Where's your sponge?" he murmured to the other afterwards.

Alfred shook his head and pulled Arthur closer to him between his legs, making sure to pile the bubbles around them in such a way that they hid most of his form from view. "Can we relax first?" he asked softly. "It's nice and warm..."

Arthur, a little startled by he motion, relaxed with a somewhat sheepish face. "Ah, of course."

"Thanks..." Alfred rested his chin on Arthur's shoulders. He gently pulled his hand out of Arthur's so both of his arms could go around his boyfriend's waist, and he absentmindedly traced the other's muscles with his fingertips, a very faint sigh working its way out of his mouth.

Feeling the breath flutter on his skin, Arthur wrapped his own arms around the other, hands resting on his back as Arthur turned his head to leave small pecks on his lover's skin. "This is nice." He hummed softly.

"You're nice," Alfred mumbled in return, though his lips curved up at the kisses. His arms tightened around Arthur's body.

"Heh. Well I'm not the only one," Arthur replied as he smoothed his hands along the other's back. The man closed his eyes lightly, drawing his fingers down Alfred's spine fondly.

"Thanks, Artie..." Alfred shivered a bit at the touch. If Arthur's hands wandered off to the sides, he'd be able to pinch the chub between his fingers. He wriggled around a bit so the bubbles closed around his body more.

"Hm?" Arthur drew back a little to look at Alfred. "What is it?"

"No, nothing." Alfred gave him a hesitant smile.

Arthur's face softened and he let out a small sigh, kissing the man on the cheek. He drew his hands up and to Alfred's shoulders, taking in his frame. "You know, you're very handsome."

Colour rose to Alfred's cheeks and he ducked his head before bumping it very lightly against Arthur's cheek. "You too."

Chuckling, Arthur also turned just a shade darker. "Well, I suppose, but not as much as you." He nudged the other a little, giving him a soft smile.

"Awh, stoppit Artie." Alfred let out a very tiny squeak of happiness and nuzzled to him a bit more. A moment later he leaned back, pulling Arthur along with him so the Englishman ended up lying on his soft squishy stomach.

Arthur's laugh grew lighter as he was pulled back, and he gave a smooch to Alfred's nose.

"What?" Alfred wrinkled his nose and then kissed Arthur's eyebrows in return. "Why're ya laughing?"

"Because I'm happy, why do you think?" Arthur poked Alfred's arm, raising a bushy brow at the man.

Alfred smiled broadly at this, his first big, real smile of the evening. "I'm happy too..." he said. After a moment he picked up his sponge and dunked it in the water before squeezing it out above Arthur's head.

Arthur's expression grew warm and he rested his head on his hands, only to yelp slightly as the sudden trickle of water came down on him.

Chuckling, Alfred wiped some water away with his thumb before it could get into Arthur's eyes. "I'm gonna wash you now, kay?" He grabbed the shower gel and squirted a fair amount onto the sponge before running it around Arthur's body, creating foamy designs on his skin.

"All right." Arthur hummed gently at the feeling, leaning slightly into it as the suds built up.

Alfred quickly but thoroughly cleaned him, using the showerhead to rinse the water off. When that was done he stuck his nose to Arthur's skin and breathed in deeply. "Mmm, you smell nice. Like me!" He loved the scent of his body wash, and it smelled heavenly on Arthur.

"Heh, thanks to you." Arthur smiled softly, taking hold of the sponge in Alfred's hand. "Shall I do you now?"

"Yeah..." Alfred somewhat reluctantly took away his protective screen- at least that's how he saw it- by pushing the bubbles away from his body. "Go ahead."

Once he had loaded the sponge, Arthur gently washed it over Alfred's skin, watching the suds and water run across his skin.

"What is it?" Alfred asked, in turn watching Arthur.

Arthur startled slightly, feeling a little foolish. "I just like watching it," he admitted with a bashful smile.

Alfred grinned at him. "Nothin' to be ashamed of."

"Not ashamed," the other man said, leaning forward to leave a kiss on Alfred's skin. "Just embarrassed."

"No need for that either." Alfred smiled at the kiss and pressed one to Arthur's forehead in return. So far Arthur had only done his shoulders and neck, but now he was starting to go lower. Alfred pursed his lips and unconsciously sucked in his stomach a little bit. Arthur had said he didn't mind, but wouldn't he like less of the chub?

As Arthur ran the suds down Alfred's torso, he continued pressing kisses to the other's skin.

"H-Hey..." Alfred gently lifted his face away. "You'll get soap in your mouth."

"Mmm, not that much," Arthur replied, smiling up at Alfred. "Besides, it's worth it."

"W-Worth it?" Alfred asked, his voice a bit squeaky from surprise. His eyes narrowed a bit suddenly and he dabbed a clump of foam from the corner of Arthur's mouth. "See?" he asked, mock-sternly, as he waved the soapy finger in front of Arthur's eyes. "It's bad for you if you swallow."

"You know I prefer to swallow," Arthur replied with a shadow of a smirk, resting his chin on his boyfriend's chest.

Alfred snorted, chuckling before turning red. "Y-Yeah, but not this stuff!"

Arthur's smirk grew wider at the man's reaction. "As I said," he murmured, defiantly pressing another kiss to Alfred's ribs. It's worth it."

"Yer too sweet..." Alfred muttered.

With closed eyes, Arthur hummed against Alfred's skin. "Not at all, just honest," he replied, eyes flicking up to Alfred.

"Well, sweet too." Alfred hugged him, feeling Arthur's arms press into his soft stomach. "I can finish..." The poisonous little thoughts came back.  _He's just distracting you._  they hissed.  _Stalling for time so he doesn't have to touch your fatness. He's only saying he doesn't mind because that's what you want to hear._  The American tried to ignore them, but his eyes dimmed a minute amount as he reached for the sponge. "Here, give me that..."

"What?" Arthur looked up at Alfred, a frown forming on his face. "No, it's all right, Alfred. I like doing this..."

"You don't gotta though." Alfred eased the sponge from him and dunked it down, scrubbing harsher than was necessary against his belly.

"Alfred!" Gently grabbing the other's wrist, Arthur tilted Alfred's head up to look into his eyes. "I want to."

"Okay." Alfred met his gaze for a few moments before looking down and relinquishing his hold on the sponge. "M'sorry," he said softly.

"Don't be." Arthur ducked down to meet Alfred's eyes again as he retrieved the sponge. "Alfred... I just... I-I like to touch you, okay?" he said, face flushing slightly.

Alfred's eyes widened a bit. "You do?"

"Well...yes."

"Oh." Slowly, Alfred guided Arthur's hand to his stomach. "...Even here?"

Arthur smiled softy. "Everywhere."

A tiny smile came to Alfred's face. "You mean it? Really really mean it?"

"Of course." Arthur leant down and gave the other's stomach a reassuring kiss. "Everywhere."

The smile grew as Alfred pulled Arthur up to hug the Englishman tightly to his chest. "Could I sleep with you tonight?" he asked in a whisper.

Holding the other in return, Arthur's own grin became serene. "Of course. You didn't even need to ask."

"Well hurry up then!" Alfred playfully whined into his ear. It was much easier to ignore the thoughts now, and just focus on Arthur. "The water's gonna get cold!"

Arthur just chuckled. "All right, all right... Although I can't do anything while I'm in your arms you know."

"Hmph. Well I wouldn't say ya couldn't do  _anything_..." Alfred let him go though.

"Well, I can't wash you, anyway." Arthur replied, pecking Alfred's nose before returning to washing the man.

"Heh." Alfred sat still while Arthur washed him. When he was nice and clean, he reached over and unplugged the tub. "C'mon, bed now!" He rose and then picked Arthur up, waiting a moment for most of the water droplets to fall off them before stepping out.

Gasping a little as he was picked up, Arthur quickly gripped to Alfred before relaxing. "Sounds good."

Alfred nuzzled to him for a moment before setting him down and draping a towel over him. He speedily dried and dressed the both of them before picking him up again and carrying to bed. On the way, his eyes passed over Arthur's camera, and he paused for a moment. "Did ya get any cool shots today?"

"Hmm... I did, but, not the one I wanted." Arthur gave Alfred a warm smile, thinking about his collection and hoping to add a new photograph to it soon.

"Oh?" Alfred set him down. "What was the one you wanted?"

"Hmm..." Arthur hummed, pulling Alfred down with him, giving him a peck on the nose along the way as he picked up his camera. "That's a secret."

Alfred gave a soft smile at the peck, but it faded away at the camera. "Artie, what are you doing?"

"I just want to take some pictures!" Arthur replied innocently.

"Oh, okay... Want me to set anything up for you?"

"No," Arthur instructed, a fond smile on his face. "Just be natural." He snapped a quick picture on impulse, before Alfred had a chance to ready himself.

"Wh- Arthur!" Alfred made a leap for Arthur's bed, burrowing under the covers.

Chuckling, Arthur made his way over and lifted the top of the cover up, taking another photo of the ball underneath. "What?"

"Now?" Alfred stared up at him with puppy eyes. "Why?"

Arthur looked at the other tenderly. "I just want to take some pictures of you."

"B-But now?" Alfred chewed on his lip a little bit. "All right...but only if there's one of you an' me. And not too many, kay? I wanna cuddle and sleep."

"All right, all right," Arthur replied with a small laugh. "Just a couple, then."

"Well, come here then." Alfred uncurled a bit and held out a hand to him.

Taking the other's hand, Arthur shuffled up and lifted the camera to take a shot.

In the instant before the shutter clicked, Alfred tilted his head to the side and pressed a kiss to Arthur's cheek.

Arthur blinked, his eyes widening slightly. "A-Alfred!"

"Did ya take it, did ya take it?!" Alfred asked, peering at the camera.

"Yes..." Arthur clicked to display the picture, revealing him looking somewhat flushed but also pleased.

"Aww, you look so cute, Artie!" Alfred nuzzled to him and pressed another kiss to that same spot.

"Hmph. Well you do too," Arthur replied, snuggling closer to Alfred and lowering the camera. He thought about the pictures he took today and the stash of photographs he kept hidden of his boyfriend - a new one each day. How did he ever think he wasn't beautiful? Glancing at the camera, the Englishman smiled gently.

That was one for the collection.


	14. Prisoner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happens when military man Alfred finds himself captured by pirates?

"So, are you ready to talk yet?" The Captain leaned on one leg and smirked as he watched the man on the other side of the bars.

"Oh I'm always ready to talk," the prisoner replied cheerfully, a cocky light in his blue eyes. "You wanna go over eyebrow plucking techniques again? Seems like it didn't get through your head last time, pirate." Though now dirtied and ripped in a few spots, his naval officer's uniform was still recognizable and the blond wore it with pride.

"Cheeky bastard." The pirate's eyes narrowed. "Remember, I could have that pretty little backside of yours whipped. Or I could simply toss your body into deep space and be done with you."

"Aww, but  _Captain_  Eyebrows, that would be a waste." Captain Alfred F. Jones of the American Space Navy smiled. "You need your eye candy."

"You will address me as Captain Kirkland." Arthur Kirkland's smirk vanished, to be replaced by one of his trademark scowls. It was no secret he enjoyed the sight of Alfred's body- and perhaps even lusted after it- but the American's annoyingly disrespectful attitude turned him off. He considered gagging him and going about it that way, but dismissed the idea shortly after. No, he wanted Alfred to beg for him.

"Or you'll do what?" Alfred approached the bars and casually leaned up against them. He'd been taken prisoner almost two weeks ago and was getting used to how things were run here. And he even found himself looking forward to his almost daily run-ins with the other Captain. Pity the Englishman was a pirate; he was quite cute when flustered.

"I'll starve you," Arthur replied flatly. He suddenly lashed out with the butt of his sword and caught Alfred harshly in the stomach. "You will talk,  _really_  talk, tomorrow. And if you don't, then I will use force. I can easily capture plenty of other men for eye candy." And he strode off, blowing out the solitary torch in the room along the way.

Alfred had groaned and been knocked down by the hit, and he froze for a moment when the lights went out. "As if!" he managed to call out though, before the door swung closed.

He sighed in the darkness. It was fun poking at Arthur, but now it seemed like he was getting dangerously close to crossing a line. The room lightened after a few moments as his eyes adjusted to the faint light from the stars that was passing through the port hole. The flying ship was making good time, thought where to he had no idea. They hadn't passed any other ships or cities since the time when he'd been taken.

Over the period of time he'd been on board he'd learned things about the crew from watching them, and Arthur. The crew was a motley bunch of men, like your typical pirates, though they were slightly more well-kept and pleasant. Alfred didn't bother remembering any of their names. The first mate was an albino Prussian man named Gilbert, and he was the one mainly in charge of Alfred. He had a loud voice and loved to talk- especially tell battle stories, which the American admittedly lapped up- though sometimes a few words of his native German would slip in with the English. And then there was the captain, Arthur Kirkland.

Arthur was a well-known pirate, famous for his evasive prowess, and ironically Alfred's crew had been up against him to try and take him in. The Space Navy ship had been badly damaged within minutes, and Arthur's crew had swarmed over to sweep him off not long after before leaving again, letting the Americans flounder in their wake. But as Alfred spent more time with them all he came to see a completely different view of Arthur Kirkland than was portrayed by the rumours. When he was not fighting someone he was very well composed, and sometimes even kind, but there was no doubt he was in control. Through watching and listening Alfred discovered that Arthur fancied himself a gentleman, had a slight obsession with tea, and appeared to have no idea that eyebrow tweezers existed. He could also be scary when pissed off, like demonstrated to a degree moments before.

But he was good enough to Alfred- the naval captain received food, water, and occasionally even coffee in the mornings. Not to mention a blanket and- usually- the light. He knew on a different pirate ship he'd have fared much worse. And then of course there was the teasing. Though in his defense he only did it because Arthur was so easy to rile up. He kind of even looked forward to it, and the next morning's was sure to be fun.

But it didn't happen, for in the middle of the night there was a battle.

Alfred didn't see any of it, of course, but he heard it. Rushing to the bars, he strained against them even though he knew it wouldn't do anything. Who had attacked them? He hoped it was an American Space Navy ship, though the Royal Space Force (England's space military) or any other nation's military ship would also help him. He had an extra set of identification papers shoved down his pants, just in case.

The noises from above deck soon started softening though, and after a few more cannon shots they died out completely. No one came down for a few minutes, and Alfred eventually moved back. He peered out the window and caught sight of another ship falling away in the distance. So Arthur and his crew had won.

Then footsteps sounded out in the hallway and Gilbert burst in with a lamp. He frowned at the darkness but then stepped forward and rapped on the metal. "Were you trained medically?" he asked.

"What?" Alfred looked over at him in confusion.

"Were you trained in first aid at all in your fancy little army base?"

"It was a  _navy_  base," Alfred replied. "And why should I tell you?"

"Were you or not,  _verdammt_?!"

"Yes, yes I was. Calm down." Alfred made placating gestures at him. "Why do you ask?"

Gilbert took down a pair of shackles and unlocked the door. "You're coming with me. Arms out."

Alfred didn't move and stared at him suspiciously.

" _Arms out_."

Sighing, Alfred finally did as told and held his arms out to him. He was promptly shackled and led from the room, up to the Captain's Quarters. He raised an eyebrow when he saw that was their destination, but said nothing. Gilbert stopped him right before entering and leaned in.

"If you try anything, you will die before you make it halfway across the deck," he said softly.

"Try what? What's going on?" Alfred looked around. There were a few spots of blood on the deck, but they were already getting scrubbed away by bandaged-up men. "Who did you fight?"

"That's for Cap to tell you if he wants." Gilbert opened the door and pushed him inside, closing it behind them.

The room was lavishly decorated, though Alfred's eyes were drawn to the figure on the bed. Arthur laid there, shirt bloody on the chest and side, eyes closed and face drawn. Alfred gulped at the sight, and he thought he knew where this was going.

"He's here," Gilbert announced.

Arthur's eyes opened and he looked over at them. "Unchain him and leave."

"But Captain-"

"Unchain him and leave."

Grumbling, Gilbert did as asked and stepped away. "Remember- try anything and you die."

"Okay, okay." When Gilbert left Alfred turned back to Arthur to see him gesturing him closer. "You want me to fix you, don't you?"

"Of course." Arthur shifted on the bed a little and pressed a hand against his side. "You most likely know the most first aid of anyone here."

"...And why should I help you?" Alfred strutted up to the bed and peered down at him. "I could tie you up or kill you and then turn the ship in."

"You really think I'm defenseless, boy?" There was a flash of movement and the next second Arthur had a knife pressed against Alfred's stomach. "I don't think you realize the seriousness of your situation. You are the prisoner of  _pirates_. Under the threat of death the entire time. If you do as you claim you could, you die. If you refuse to do what I tell you to, you die. Fix me up."

"And if I'd rather die than save you?"

Arthur studied him. "You wouldn't. Come on, fix me up and I'll reward you."

Hesitating for a moment and thinking heavily about the pirate's words, Alfred eventually heaved a great sigh and nodded. "I'll tend to you. But don't think I'm doing it cuz I want to." He stepped back out of reach of the knife. "Where are the bandages and stuff?"

"In the plain chest over there." Arthur gestured at it and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his injuries.

After dragging the chest over to him, Alfred looked over at his body and winced. "What happened?" he asked, opening the chest and starting to sift through it.

"Got shot through the shoulder and cut across the ribs," Arthur said shortly.

"Oh. Was the shot a clean entry and exit? I don't remember how to take bullets out."

"How the hell should I know?" Arthur snapped. "I wasn't paying attention to it, I was a bit busy." He let out a low gasp when he suddenly found himself in Alfred's arms.

The American had lifted him up and was peering around at his back. "Sorry, but I gotta see," he said, thinking the gasp had been one of pain. "Ah, there it is!" He brightened when he saw the exit hole.

"How wonderful." Arthur clutched onto the fabric of Alfred's shirt tightly to hold himself up. "Do something about it."

"I'm on it, hold your horses," Alfred muttered. "Can you stay like this? Upright, I mean. I'm gonna have to clean both sides."

"I can if I have something to hold on to," Arthur replied through gritted teeth. He elbowed Alfred harshly in the stomach when the other blond snickered and closed his eyes as the disinfectant burned through his wound.

"It'll only burn for a moment, don't worry. I thought you were a tough pirate who could take anything." Alfred only grinned when Arthur glared at him through his pants.

He quickly cleaned the other wounds and bound the Englishman's chest and patted him before dragging the chest with the medical supplies back to into its spot. Glancing over at the bed, he noticed how strained the pirate looked. His eyes met Arthur's green ones and a small jolt went through him. He looked away and poured a glass of water, which he took to the bedside.

"Thank you." Arthur accepted the water and drank. When he had drained the glass he looked up at Alfred, debated internally for a moment, and then pulled the other down for a kiss.

Surprised, Alfred resisted for a moment before giving in and melting into the kiss. His hands went on either side of Arthur's head and he pushed Arthur down until they were laying flat on the bed. His eyes fluttered shut and he found himself pressing back eagerly. He felt Arthur's arms go around his waist to try and pull him on top of himself, and he worried that the pirate would be in pain. With the doubt his head cleared and his eyes snapped open as he jerked back.

"Wh-What the hell was that?!" he got out, sprawled out on the other side of the bed.

"Your reward." Arthur licked his lips and smirked. "Seems you enjoyed it. Now come, get me my coat. You'll assist me outside should I need it."

"…Where's your coat?" Alfred rose, his legs shaking ever so slightly. He had admittedly enjoyed the kiss, but the suddenness had startled him. Plus he couldn't allow himself to submit to Arthur- he was a pirate!

"On the hook." Arthur watched him with some amusement.

"Okay..." Alfred retrieved the coat and held it out to him. "So what happened? Who were you fighting?"

Arthur looked at him intently for a moment, deciding whether to disclose the information, and then nodded as he put the coat on. "My brother. Beforehand my family didn't give a shut about me until I became successful, and now that I am they want my wealth. By turning me in or killing me, whichever comes first."

"Sorry..." Alfred couldn't imagine someone's family turning on them like that.

"What, apologizing to a pirate?" Arthur raised an eyebrow and grasped onto Alfred's arm, using the American to pull himself up. "You've come far in one night."

"I just feel bad for you," Alfred muttered, starting for the door.

The moment they appeared on deck everyone froze and looked towards them. Arthur was leaning most of his weight on Alfred, but in a way that it was unnoticeable. His coat was open, baring his bandaged chest for all to see. He rapped out orders sharply and the men scrambled to do them, only sparing Alfred a brief glance.

The American watched them with wide eyes. They looked...normal, upon closer inspection. A little scruffy, to be fair, but like regular sailors going about the business of fixing their ship. A few were even singing while they worked to pass the time.

"Not the barbarians you expected, hmm?" Arthur asked him quietly, watching him with a small smile.

Alfred just looked away.

Gilbert came running up to them not long after. "Captain, you want me to take him back to the brig?"

"No. He'll be my personal assistant from now on. Cabin boy, if you will," Arthur said, ignoring Alfred's squawk of protest. He cut across Gilbert's protests as well. "He's strong and he won't try anything."

After dispelling any more complaints, he headed back to his cabin to figure out their course, Alfred in tow. "You may rest on my bed," he told Alfred after he'd gotten settled at his map table.

"...You're gonna have to rest too, y'know," Alfred muttered as he fell onto the bed. It was incredibly soft, he noticed now. "It's bad for the injuries if you move around too much."

Arthur chuckled. "I'll join you in a moment." And he did, about half an hour later. He wobbled a bit because of pain but managed it and lay down next to him.

Alfred jumped a bit when he felt the mattress shift and rolled over to look at him. "Do you want me to leave or something?"

"No, stay. You'll be living here with me from now on, and sleeping with me."

"Wh-What?!" Alfred stared at him with wide eyes. "No, I'm not gonna sleep with you, no way!"

"I don't mean sex." Arthur rolled his eyes. "Merely sleeping in the same bed. Though if you wish for sex I won't be opposed."

Huffing, Alfred scooted away from him. "Hell no."

"Come now, you liked the kiss. You've seen the crew; the life of a pirate isn't so bad. Full of excitement, adventure, and far-off stars." Arthur knew he was glorifying it, but quite honestly not by much.

Alfred scoffed. "What, I come with you until you find another guy you like and then toss me aside? As if." The promise of excitement and adventure was admittedly appealing, but not with pirates.

"I wouldn't. I'm attracted to  _you_."

"For now. Forget it, pirate." Alfred turned to face away from him. "I'll entertain you for now, but the moment I can I'm getting out of here."

Silent for a moment, Arthur eventually sighed. He debated silently, and then moved closer to Alfred, wrapping his arms around the American's body. Feeling Alfred tense beneath his touch he stiffened himself but relaxed when the other didn't move away. He tightened his grip and pressed kisses to the fabric exposed to him. If Alfred resisted, he'd just have to persuade him otherwise.

"What are you doing?" Alfred's voice came out low and strained.

"I'm being perfectly serious, Alfred. I'll offer you protection and adventure. And the pay is quite good," Arthur added that last sentence with a hint of humour. Humour was good for persuasion, or so he thought.

Admittedly Alfred did snort in some laughter, but after that there was silence once more. Arthur let out a sigh and allowed his grip to slacken, though he didn't relinquish his hold entirely. They rested in silence for a while, and after a few minutes Alfred started snoring softly. Arthur couldn't suppose he blamed the lad; he had been kept in rather rough conditions for the past two weeks, and this was probably the most comfortable sleeping space he'd experienced from long before that as well. Military ship bunks weren't known for their luxury, even for higher ranking officers. The pirate blinked in surprise when Alfred's hand slipped into his own, though he smiled once it wore off. Then he reminded himself that Alfred was asleep and most likely didn't realize what he was doing and the smile sagged, but he refused to dampen his mood by thinking about it too much.

Gilbert came in with food about an hour after that, and Arthur quickly hushed him before he could make any noise. "Alfred is asleep," he explained. "What did you tell the crew?"

"You were lightly injured in the fight and will recover in a few days. I gave the order to stop by your star in the meantime so we could make repairs and rest." Gilbert brought the food over and gave Alfred a glance before backing away.

"Good. Might as well stay there a bit longer, have a little break. We have enough treasure for now," Arthur said. His 'star' was just a relatively small moon orbiting one of the outer planets of one of the more far-out solar systems.

"...You really like him, huh?" Gilbert asked suddenly, leaning on the back of the chair.

"I do. I just need to convince him to give up his goddamned misled sense of righteousness," Arthur muttered, speaking quietly to ensure Alfred would not wake.

"Dirty tricks?" Gilbert raised an eyebrow.

"Not necessarily. Just examples to break his view that the military is perfect in its beliefs and actions."

"I think I have just what you need." Gilbert smiled. "Involves what happened to his old ship after its run-in with us."

"Perfect." Arthur shared in the albino's smile. "But hold on about disclosing that information for a few days. I should like to see if he won't come around on his own."

"Sure. We'll reach your star by early tomorrow if we hyperjump during the night. We'll be in range for it by the evening, and should have just enough juice left."

"Good. Inform the crew to carry on as they are and that I shall be coming around for inspection in the evening."

"Will do, Boss. But Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"I'll take care of the stern during the jump." Gilbert raised a hand to stop Arthur's protests as the Englishman's mouth opened. "It might jar your injury too much if you're up there when it happens. You're better off resting; you know I can handle it."

"...Fine, Beilschmidt. But if you mess up-"

"Yeah, yeah, you'll keelhaul me while you demonstrate how to do it properly, multiple times." Gilbert waved a hand dismissively. Arthur had threatened that many times, and the Prussian had yet to experience it. "It'll be fine. You picked the right guy to go pirating with."

Arthur snorted, but nodded and then dismissed him. He ate some of the food before waking Alfred up to finish the rest. The American seemed happy at the meal- he'd gotten worse down in the brig- and eagerly scarfed it down. He uttered a short 'Thank you.' and then flopped back over. Arthur let out a soft breath and curled up to him again, falling into a light sleep moments later.

* * *

"Gilbert. It's time for that information."

They had been at the star for a little under a week now, and Arthur was healing nicely. Much to his chagrin though, Alfred was still resisting the Englishman's attempts to sway him over. Arthur had finally had enough and resolved to end the matter once and for all.

Gilbert looked up when Arthur entered. He had private quarters slightly smaller than the Englishman's, but he wasn't complaining since he didn't have to share. "The information?"

"About the fate of Alfred's old crew. Come to my cabin in a few minutes- but present it well, would you?"

"So dirty tricks after all." Gilbert snorted but nodded. "I'll come in about ten minutes."

"Good." Arthur nodded back to him and left.

He strode back to his own cabin to find Alfred looking through his small library. The American jumped away, looking guilty. Arthur chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"What?" Alfred asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Nothing. You may look if you would like." Arthur got settled in his chair, pressing his hand lightly to his chest.

Alfred noticed and ambled over. "You okay?"

"Yes." Arthur looked up at him and smiled. "It's nice to see you care, even a little."

"I-I don't," Alfred muttered, but it was an obvious lie.

"Of course." Arthur hid another smile and turned to his maps while Alfred hesitantly strode over to the bookshelf again.

Silence fell for a few moments before Gilbert's inevitable entrance. The albino knocked before entering, and he took a seat next to Arthur. "Afternoon, Captain," he said, an almost unnoticeable glint in his eye.

"What do you want, Gilbert?"

"We received some information about one  _USS Freedom,_ " Gilbert said casually, his eyes flicking to Alfred for a moment.

Predictably, Alfred jumped and stepped closer. "What happened?! How'd ya get the info?!"

But Gilbert looked to Arthur. "Captain?"

"Go on," Arthur said a moment later, wanting to get this over with. He was slightly interested in their fate as well.

"It came over the radio. They said that the crew had been sent to Sector 67 for reconnaissance and stationing. They are to remain there for nine months, and should their captain be found he is to join them."

Throughout the duration of Gilbert's speaking, Alfred had grown paler and paler, until at the end he looked as though he was about to faint. "S-Sector 67? That's the punishment sector- barely anyone ever comes back alive from there. Why would they-"

"Because of your run-in with us. You were left defeated, humiliated, with the captain gone," Arthur told him, eyes emotionless. "I'm assuming that's their subtle way of making an example of you."

"But- But that's not fair! There was nothing we could do, we were attacked!" Alfred paced the room, muttering under his breath.

"Do you still wish to return?"

Alfred stopped dead and stared at him, eyes widening with horror. "You knew! You knew about this!" He marched up to the Englishman and grasped onto his collar. "You knew I wouldn't want to- wouldn't  _be able to_  go back now!"

Gilbert had shot up, but Arthur waved him off. "Alfred," he spoke, his eyes locked on the other's blue ones. "I did not know about this information before now." A little white lie wouldn't hurt. And besides, he hadn't known what the exact information was to be. "It was not my intention to provoke you in any way. I merely asked a logical follow-up question of how you will proceed."

Staring back at him, Alfred finally just sighed and released him. "I don't know. I guess my options are either piracy and crimes against the government or punishment and probably death."

As Alfred hadn't moved from his lap, Arthur wrapped his arms around the American's waist and pulled him closer. "The pirate's life isn't really so bad. Plus, I guarantee you life. You will have protection as long as you stay with me."

"I'll leave you to it." Gilbert backed from the room, closing the door behind him.

"...I had friends on that crew," Alfred said softly, tiredly. He lowered his head to rest on Arthur's shoulder. "I don't know what to do... I don't wanna die yet."

"Then live." Arthur stroked his back soothingly. "And join me. The crew will accept you soon, and you'll stay with me. Even get a share of future treasure."

"I- I need to think about it." Alfred drew back.

Letting him, Arthur gave him a gentle push towards the bed. "Then think about it and rest. But decide quickly. We'll be leaving soon." Not that he was planning on letting Alfred go- if the American wouldn't join them, he'd become a prisoner again.

"Thanks." Alfred lay down and faced away from the room.

For the rest of the day Arthur poured over his maps and in the evening did rounds of the ship, returning late that night. He glanced over at Alfred, and it seemed that he hadn't moved all day. Slipping into the bed, he kept to his own side that night.

He woke pleasantly surprised with a pair of arms around his waist. Smiling, he carefully twisted around in Alfred's grip and nuzzled to him. He didn't fall back asleep, though it didn't take long for Alfred to wake.

"Good morning," Arthur murmured to him with a smile.

"...Morning." Alfred looked surprised by their position, but Arthur's grip was too tight for him to do anything. Plus, he found that he  _really_  didn't mind it at all. "I've uhh... I've decided."

"Really?" Arthur's eyebrows rose with expectation. "And what have you decided?"

Alfred bit his lip and looked away, going through final decisions, before dragging his gaze back to the waiting green eyes. "I think...it would be better for me to stay with you. If they're gonna kill me off for something I had no control over..." His eyes hardened.

Arthur smiled. "Good..." he purred. "That's very good." He pulled the American into a kiss.

Reciprocating it with more eagerness than he had before, Alfred pressed back against him. After a moment though he pulled back and rooted around in his pants, pulling out the folded papers. "And uhh...burn these."

Looking them over, Arthur snorted. "With pleasure. But in your underpants? Really?"

"Well you didn't find them, did you?"

Arthur heaved a sigh and let him go. "No matter. They will burn later on. But for now," He rose from the bed and held a hand out to Alfred. "Come, let me show you your new life."

Grinning, Alfred reached forward and took it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a kind of futuristically historical world. Don't question it, there are just old fashioned wooden ships that are in space and stuff. Think the movie Treasure Planet, just without the aliens, and you've got the right idea.


	15. Six Months

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little cute fluffy fic celebrating a six-month anniversary.

Arthur was bouncing very slightly in his seat on the way home from work that night, though he did his best not to let the other people on the bus know. Today was a special day after all- his and his boyfriend Alfred's six month anniversary. He knew that it wasn't that big of a deal to most, but to him it meant almost everything because it signified six months now that Alfred had brightened up this world. But the twenty-six year old was also slightly worried. What if this day didn't mean as much to Alfred? Six months wasn't that significant of a date, nor was it a very long time to be with someone, quite honestly. What if his boyfriend laughed and called him a sentimental old sap? Alfred probably hadn't even remembered...

He shook those thoughts from his head and focused on the passing cityscape. It would be all right, if Alfred had forgotten then Arthur would simply remind him. There was still time for them to have a nice evening together. Plus it was a Saturday, so they both had off the next day.

The bus pulled up to his stop and Arthur was jerked out of his thoughts altogether. He stepped off and as he walked the short distance to their apartment building, tension started knotting in his stomach again. Alfred had insisted that they live together a little over two months ago to cut down the costs. Alfred... Arthur's stomach turned fluttery at the very thought of the man. The feeling rose and tangled with the tension the closer Arthur got, and by the time he'd reached their door his hand was shaking when he reached out with his key. He paused.

 _Oh get a hold of yourself, Arthur,_  he thought viciously.  _There's nothing to be afraid of. Either way you get a night with Alfred._

Once he was calmed, he inserted the key and entered. It turned out he didn't need to worry at all for it appeared Alfred wasn't even home. The American certainly didn't reply to any of Arthur's calls. The green-eyes man gave a soft sigh and slipped his shoes and jacket off.

"Alfred?" he called again, venturing deeper into the house. Maybe Alfred was asleep? When he reached the kitchen, he froze.

"Hi, Artie!" Alfred was standing in the middle of the kitchen in jeans, a t-shirt, and a waistcoat. A full dinner was on the table behind him. "Happy Anniversary, babe."

Arthur stared. "A-Alfred..." he whispered, taking a step forward. That step opened the floodgates and in the next moment he found himself across the floor in Alfred's warm, strong arms.

"Heh, hey there Artie." Chuckling, Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist in return and pulled him close.

"Alfred, you did all this-"

"I-I mean I know it's only our sixth month together but it's the longest time I've been in a relationship and you're like the perfect guy for me and so nice and cute and supportive even though you pretend to be mad or grumpy sometimes and I just love you so so much!" Alfred rambled, burying his nose into Arthur's hair. He felt a soft breath on his collarbone as Arthur chuckled.

"It's all right. I feel the same."

"You do?" Alfred's eyes widened and he held his lover more tightly.

"Yeah. Did you spend all day preparing this?"

"Well, about half of the day. The roast chicken took the longest," Alfred said as he let him go. "And then I got you a surprise for dessert! And then..."

Staring at the man before him listing off all the delectable items he'd made Arthur started to wonder why he ever doubted him. Of course Alfred would remember. Of course it would matter to him. Arthur reached out a hand to Alfred's cheek, effectively stopping the flow of words coming from the American's lips, and smiled.

"Thank you."

Alfred's hand rose up to enfold Arthur's and he returned the smile. "You wanna eat?"

"Oh, yes. I'm starved."

"Good! I know you're gonna love it!" Alfred pulled out a chair for his boyfriend with a sly grin and bow.

"I always love your food, silly." Sitting, Arthur looked over the table. There was the roast chicken, of course, but also mashed potatoes, sweet corn, peas, and carrots. Arthur's favourite gravy dish housed a good amount of the thick brown sauce, easily enough for the both of them. A tea set was placed in the very middle, and Alfred had brought out a bottle of iced tea for himself. "It looks delicious."

"Yup!" Alfred gleefully seated himself. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Do you see the waistcoat?"

"I do indeed see the waistcoat." Arthur nodded in approval.

"I wore it 'specially for you!" Alfred declared proudly. "I was gonna go with the whole formal thing, cuz I know you really like it but then I thought it was too formal. So waistcoat!"

"Mmm, I'm going to have a fun time pulling it off later..." Arthur smirked.

"Oh yes." Alfred gave him an eager grin back and then leaned forward. "Here, gimmie your plate so I can put some food on it. You want chicken breast, right?"

"Yes." Once Arthur received his loaded plate back he took a bite and almost moaned. Alfred had just finished culinary school and his cooking was some of the best Arthur had ever tasted.

They were both done soon, and Alfred quickly cleared away the table. He set down two smaller plates and a fresh pot of tea before going over to Arthur's side of the table and leaning over him. Arthur leaned into his embrace, closing his eyes. After a blissful moment, Alfred reluctantly pulled away.

"Don't drool too much, kay?" Alfred asked, grinning, as he moved towards the refrigerator.

"...I'll do my best," Arthur replied dryly.

"Good!" With a flourish, Alfred produced a shiny dark brown cake from inside it, setting it on the table. There were three pink roses in the center of it.

"Alfred...is that?"

"That Earl Grey flavoured cake you really like from the French bakery you complain about but I know you think has very good sweets? Yup! I got the medium one since it's just the two of us."

"...Oh Alfred, you spoil me so much." Arthur stood and pulled Alfred into a fierce embrace.

"You deserve it all," Alfred replied cheerfully, picking up a knife and slicing cleanly through the cake once he'd been freed from the hug. "Here, pass me your plate."

"Thank you." When he had his slice Arthur sat and brought a bite to his mouth. This was his favourite cake, with a delicate taste of tea, and Bonnefoy Bakery was the only shop that sold it.

"No problem, Artie!" Alfred quickly devoured his own portion and then leaned back.

"Do you have anything else planned?" Arthur ate more leisurely, enjoying every bite.

"Oh, yes. Right now we'll go watch TV and cuddle, and then after like an hour we can go have sex!"

"Of course it ends with that..." Chuckling, Arthur shook his head and slid the empty plate away from himself.

Alfred was pouting as he cleaned up. "So you don't wanna have sex?"

"No, no, Alfie... Of course I do." Arthur rose and strode over to place a hand on Alfred's cheek. "I was just joking."

"Oh. Okay."

"Yeah." Waiting until the larger man had cleaned up, Arthur then took his hand. "Come on then, let's go."

They ended up watching two and a half episodes of Pawn Stars. Alfred loved the show because of all the cool stuff they showed, while Arthur enjoyed the little tidbits of historical information they displayed on screen with each item. By the middle of the second episode Arthur was yawning slightly, but he knew once they went to bed Alfred would wake him up. When the hour was up Alfred flicked the TV off and scooped Arthur up into his arms.

"Ah- Alfred!"

"What?" Alfred grinned at him. The smile softened, though, as he started for the bedroom. "Was it okay though? Tonight?"

"It was. But we're just getting to the best part." Arthur smiled back at him and leaned up to press a kiss to Alfred's lips.

Alfred kissed back briefly, but he still looked unsure. "Yeah, but maybe you wanted to go out or something..."

I don't mind." Arthur rested his head against Alfred's shoulder and left little kisses all across his skin. "As long as I'm with you, it's time well spent."

"Aww, Artie..." Alfred glowed with happiness and placed him down on the bed. "So how do you want to do this?"

"Hmm... Let me ride you?"

"You want to?"

"Yeah." Arthur rolled over, flipping them so Alfred was underneath him. He lowered his hands to the buttons of the waistcoat, slowly undoing them.

"Can't wait, then." Alfred watched the look in Arthur's eyes, satisfied when he saw them darkening. There was already a tiny bulge in his pants as he lifted his own hands to Arthur's button-down shirt.

"Ah ah ah." Arthur gently knocked them away. "First you."

"Heh, sure."

The waistcoat fell open to reveal the t-shirt, and Arthur gave an internal groan. T-shirts were so much less sexy than button-downs. But it didn't matter too much, either one would have been off Alfred's body soon enough anyway. He ran his hands down that body, appreciating all the curves and muscles. Alfred let out a low moan and picked his upper body off the mattress for a moment, Arthur using it to slip both the waistcoat and t-shirt off. Then he was left looking at Alfred's bare chest, and he smiled.

"You like?" Alfred watched him happily.

"Do you even need to ask that to know the answer?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Nah, but I still like hearing it from you, babe." Alfred grinned. "Now lemme undress you."

"Well of course I like your body. It's yours, and it's quite hot." Arthur slipped off him and spread out on the bed.

Alfred immediately climbed over him and started stripping the clothes from his body. The pants and socks were lost first, followed ever so slowly by the shirt. The American smiled more and nuzzled against Arthur's chest. He felt a hand go around to the back of his head and moved his face up to bite down on one spot on Arthur's neck. Sucking happily on the pale skin, Alfred only pulled away when he was sure the mark he left would be nice and visible. And he was right.

"And how am I supposed to cover that up for work?" Arthur's voice was breathless.

"We can go get some cover up tomorrow. Don't worry about it right now."

"I won't." Arthur tugged at the other's pants. "Take those off for me, will you?"

"With pleasure." Alfred slid them off, smirking as he watched Arthur's eyes roam hungrily over his legs. "I'll loosen ya up and then we'll get into position, kay?"

"Sounds good to me." Arthur smiled and spread his own legs.

Alfred settled between them, one hand gently probing at Arthur's entrance while he leaned his upper body over Arthur's to press soft kisses to the Englishman's stomach. The minutes dragged on slowly while Alfred worked one finger to loosen his lover up, and the relative quiet was only broken by Arthur's moans. Alfred loved the sound. For one it meant that Arthur was liking the feeling of whatever they were doing and that Alfred was doing a good job, but it also sounded downright sexy. After another few moments of that, Alfred added in his second finger and repeated the slow process before slipping in his third. He never stopped the little kisses to Arthur's abdomen and he knew the man was ready when his hand came down to tangle harshly in his golden locks. Arthur was getting impatient.

"I'm getting there," Alfred murmured against his skin.

"Get there faster then. I'm tired of being the only one moaning wantonly like some bloody virgin on her wedding night."

"Heh, you come up with the best lines like this." Alfred chuckled at the light smack he received.

"Prat."

"Mmm, I'm your prat." Alfred suddenly pulled away and sprawled out on the bed. "Now get up here and ride me, cowboy."

"Oh hush." Arthur rolled his eyes and straddled the American's hips. "Some more foreplay first, though."

"I'm down with that." Alfred gave a light moan as their cocks pressed together. "For now."

Arthur's hands slipped across Alfred's chest, brushing gently against the skin there. He felt Alfred shiver and paused when his hand was splayed out next to the other man's right nipple. He lowered his mouth to it and started lavishing it with attention- sucking and nipping softly. Alfred's moans increased in volume and number, and that only spurred Arthur on more. After another few seconds he moved onto the other side. By that point Alfred's hand had tangled into the Englishman's hair, and Arthur started moaning back.

"E-Enough." Alfred suddenly gasped out. "Let's get to it."

"So 'for now' is over, is it?" Arthur lifted his face with a small smirk.

"I want you in me..."

And the American had such a puppy face on him that Arthur didn't know how he could do it in such a situation or how he himself could ever stand against it. He shimmied down and slowly started working Alfred's cock to make it fully erect. That only took a few seconds and once the organ was standing proudly he gently guided Alfred's hand to his entrance.

"Stretch me some more? I like the feeling..."

"Of course." Alfred's face changed into one of happy excitement and he slowly inserted his finger again.

Arthur only tensed for a second, already loosened up from before. He had just wanted to make sure there were no muscles overlooked because of the angle. Three minutes later he was completely ready and he shifted again, positioning himself over the cock before sliding down onto it with a low gasp.

"You good?" Alfred shifted his hips to try and get more comfortable.

"Yeah. It's fine, love." Arthur gave him a smile. "You know how it is at first."

"Okay." Grasping Arthur's hips, Alfred started to move.

"Nnn..." Arthur's eyes closed and he whimpered for a moment. Then he got fully adjusted and rocked back into him, leaning over so their chests were rubbing against each other.

The air was filled with soft gasps and moans, as well as the occasional creak of the bed. Their pace was slow and easy, though at a few points one of them momentarily sped up. It was usually Arthur, seeking an extra wave of pleasure. Alfred happily obliged him, pistoning his hips more powerfully into the Englishman.

"A-Alfred!" Arthur buried his face against Alfred's neck, moaning into the skin and thrusting as hard as he could to get the American's cock deeper into him.

"Arthur! Arthur!" Alfred called back, groaning with pleasure. His arms wound around Arthur's shoulders and he pulled the other man closer.

The smaller man eagerly leaned into him, his hips never letting up his thrusting. Pleasure raced through his veins and built up, slowly bringing him to the brink. His cock, rubbed between their two bodies, had hardened long ago and was now leaking. It couldn't take too much more, but Arthur wanted to squeeze every ounce of pleasure that he could from the experience. It seemed Alfred was aiming for the same thing for he suddenly sped up again. Arthur's toes curled into the mattress and the American's name fell from his lips over and over again.

A few minutes later, he felt Alfred's cock twitch and tighten in the way that signaled he was close. Arthur strained even more then, thrusting hard and fast until he had worked up a sheen of sweat. Alfred worked with him, panting into his hair and spilling deep into him. The feeling prompted Arthur's own release. He came onto their stomachs, the thick warm liquid immediately smeared by their movements.

"Arthur-" Alfred started to slow, and once he stopped he slowly pulled out. As he lay there, he felt dribbled of his own cum slide down his leg from Arthur's entrance.

Arthur hovered over him for a moment after getting gently pushed up, but eventually collapsed on his side. Alfred immediately wrapped around him and nuzzled to his neck.

"I love you, Alfred..." Happy at being the little spoon, Arthur was quickly drifting off.

"Love you too, babe. Happy six months."


	16. Fault Lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> England and America have had many arguments in the past, but during this one, America snaps. Will the two of them be able to make up? Has background Franada
> 
> This is my story for the 2014 USUK Secret Santa exchange, but I hope you guys like it as well! It was for alfredfjonesing on tumblr!

"That's it! I'm done with him, Canada!"

Canada looked up from the newspaper he was reading and glanced over at the other nation. America stood in the doorway, face red from cold or anger, or probably both. He calmly set his mug of tea onto the kitchen table and placed the newspaper down next to it. "Done with who?" he asked politely.

America stormed into the room slamming the door shut behind him. Shrugging his shoulders apologetically at Canada upon the other's wince, he dragged out one of the chairs and sat down in it. "Don't give me that shit, bro. You know exactly who I'm talking about."

"Did you have another spat with your boyfriend?" Canada raised an eyebrow. "I thought you resolved what happened at the meeting."

"So did I! But  _nooooo_ , he got mad at me for getting mad at him for what he said- which was totally not true! I'm not a 's-stupidly deluded fool who's got no bloody idea what he's doing'! And he's the one who started it all because he interrupted my presentation with his stupid tea kettle!" The words left America's mouth in a rush, and when they were all spent the nation slumped back into his seat. He stared at Canada, seeking validation.

Canada thought carefully about his words. "...What did you mean by, 'I'm done with him'?"

"I mean I'm through with him. We're breaking up."

Purple eyes widened. " _What_?" America and England had gone through many arguments together - there was a new one almost every week - but never had Canada seen his brother look so determined in ending his relationship.

"Yeah." America lowered his head. "It- It's just not working out. He's too nitpicky over every single tiniest detail and it drives me insane. Like, there's a thing called an organized mess."

Raising an eyebrow, Canada sighed softly. He could think of many qualities America had that would also work against the relationship, but of course America himself was either blind to them or too stubborn to ever admit he was doing something wrong. "Uh, yeah."

America looked at him, shock in his eyes. "You agree with me, right?!"

"Yes, yes, I do." Canada hurriedly assured him. "Well, mostly."

"Mostly?! Bro-"

"Yes!" Canada raised his voice for a moment, and America fell silent. "Mostly. While England probably shouldn't have gone that far during the meeting, I don't think breaking up with him is the right thing to do. Look, we've  _all_  had a stressful and work-stuffed couple of months. Tempers are short and nobody tries to talk out their problems. Just give him a chance. Christmas is in a month-"

"To hell with Christmas! I'm not spending it with him! It's done." America heaved a great sigh and ran his hand through his hair. "I've given him plenty of chances before. Every single argument we had was another chance! I'm through. I don't need his shit on top of everything else."

Canada sighed as well, his much more quiet than his brother's. He took a look at America and knew he was in for a very long couple of weeks. The young nation was angry right now, too angry to see things clearly. He would be pining for England within the next few days, if not the next few hours. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but if it was true that the two of them had already broken up, then this time would be a very different story.

"Do you want some hot chocolate?" he asked, to change the topic and hoping to calm America down.

"What?" America looked up, momentarily startled. "Yeah, sure."

Raising an eyebrow, Canada stood and moved over to the counter to start preparing the chocolate. "You want to talk about exactly what happened?"

"I just- We went back to the hotel and I was expecting some cuddles or at least  _something_  to y'know, say that it was okay now. But he just started going off like it was still the meeting! How I wasn't really one to talk about interruptions and how my presentation was stupid and just generally how apparently childish I was." America huffed angrily, his fists clenching with the very memory. "And then I started snapping back at him and then it was a full blown row and I might have smashed a glass but that's not important and then I just said we were done and left."

"That...sounds bad," Canada said, ruffling America's hair sympathetically as he placed the mug of hot chocolate down. He noticed that America seemed to flinch a tiny bit, but then the nation picked up his mug and his face was hidden by the rim. "America... I think you should apolo-"

The mug slammed down. "I'm not apologizing to him! I'm always the one who apologizes! He can do it this time! And even if he does, I'm still not taking him back!" America declared. "Look, can I crash here for the night?"

"Uhm- of course. You know where the guest bedroom-" But by then, America had gone. "Is..."

Canada stayed at the table for another half hour or so, the mostly full mug of chocolate his only company. He only hoped that America calmed down by the next morning and he and England could work things out maybe after that day's meeting.

* * *

But to his dismay, none of that happened. America was unnaturally silent the whole drive to the meeting building, and when they walked in he didn't even spare a glance in England's direction. The British nation looked like shit, honestly, but it was apparent he had tried to cover it up. Not much could help his red-rimmed eyes or scruffy appearance, though Canada suspected he had bags under his eyes that had been concealed with foundation. It was a weird meeting, and during the lunch break, France waved Canada over.

"Yeah?" Canada asked, giving a soft gasp of surprise when he was pulled onto the Frenchman's lap. "Well  _bonjour_  to you too."

" _Bonjour, mon cher,_ " France murmured to him, happily pressing a small kiss to the shell of Canada's ear. "Do you know what happened between  _Amérique_  and  _Angleterre_? Because a certain little  _Sourcils_  came to my door last night, quite drunk and blabbering how he was alone and heartbroken and it was all America's fault."

"Oh, yeah..." Canada sighed and shifted slightly. "It was about the fight they had yesterday. Apparently England carried it over to the evening and America had enough so he left, shouting about how they were breaking up."

France's eyebrows rose. "I did not believe  _Amérique_  to be one to give up his love over so silly a thing."

"Nor did I." Canada glanced over to where England was sipping quite miserably out of his thermos, and then across the room where America was doing his best to be completely oblivious to the sight of the Englishman. "I hoped America would calm down and then apologize... But I guess not."

"They are both going to be miserable if this continues," France said flatly.

"I know, I know. But you know how they are, if you push either one, then he'll do the exact opposite out of stubbornness. Especially England."

"Hmm..." France had a thoughtful look on his face, and then he smiled wickedly. " _Cher_ , what do you say if by Christmas those two idiots haven't gotten back together, then we do a little matchmaking of our own?"

Canada looked between the two of them and nodded. He turned his face back to France's, and purple eyes met blue. "Fine. I don't want America sobbing to me over the phone every week about how much he misses England."

" _Bon,_ " France whispered, then tilted his head up to kiss his own lover.

* * *

America looked to where France and Canada were sucking each other's faces off and grimaced. He discreetly glanced at England again to see he had changed to sadly eating a roast beef sandwich. All in all he made a pitiful sight, but America wasn't about to back down. He was serious this time. England had to apologize first. Then maybe they could talk and maybe, just  _maybe_ , consider getting back together.

(Oh who was he kidding, America already desperately missed the feeling of England's body beside his in bed, missed their kisses and their whispered sweet nothings in the dark. But hell if he was going to admit that to anyone.)

No, he'd made up his mind. He would be strong this time. Huffing decisively at no one in particular, the young nation stood and made his way to the door, trying to pretend he hadn't seen the tiny flash of hope in England's eyes.

He didn't even last a week before the horrible emptiness settled in his stomach. He called Canada a few days later and begrudgingly admitted that he missed England. But when Canada suggested that he just talk to the Englishman, he adamantly refused. As much as he longed for England, he still had his pride left, and that wouldn't allow him to.

The fact that England himself had gotten distant after that first day didn't help. Gone was the small figure hunched over his tea and scones, staring at the table as if lost. England was back to his suave and snappy self, looking dapper in his suit and chatting with almost everyone except America. America had run into him briefly at the airport and tried to stutter something out, but England had simply given him a cool look and brushed past. That had hurt more than America cared to admit to himself.

America was in New York by then, slowly preparing for his grand Christmas party. After a couple more phone calls from the nation, Canada had flown down early to both help prepare and provide emotional support.

"I miss him so muuuuuch!" America wailed, burying his face in Canada's shoulder.

Canada looked down at him, unamused. Honestly though, he should have expected as much when America had suggested watching Christmas movies on the Hallmark channel. All of them had sappy, cheerful endings full of love and family and cheer. "It's all right, America..." he said, gently running his hand through the silky blond hair but carefully avoiding Nantucket. By now he knew better than to suggest America apologize.

"L-Like really? Why does he have to be s-so fucking stubborn?"

"Well that's England, you know."

"I do know!" America sounded wholly miserable, and after another moment he crawled into Canada's lap.

"There, there..." Canada gave him a little squeeze and cooed into his ear, much like one would to calm down a small child. Or puppy.

After a few long minutes, America finally seemed to quiet down. He fell asleep right there on Canada's lap, and the northern nation wanted to groan. Cue Olympic-level gymnastics again just to get out from under him. He eventually did, and covered America with a blanket after taking off his glasses.

"You are so stupid," he told America's sleeping body, and that made him feel better. He called up France, and once he was assured that England was indeed coming (or rather getting dragged along by a certain Frenchman) to America's party, he went to bed. This was going to be an eventful Christmas.

* * *

The day of the party dawned bright and clear, with the previous day's snow glittering prettily in the sunlight. It was only the 22nd of December, but America always planned it like this so that if nations wanted to go back to their home countries for actual Christmas, then there would still be time. And of course, even though not everyone celebrated it, people still came for the food and festivities and presents.

America was busy all morning with making final preparations, and Canada was glad for it since he had some peace and quiet. He thought that if he heard the words 'I miss him!' or 'He's stupid, why doesn't he just apologize?' or even England's name once more coming from America's mouth he would whack the other blond with the heaviest object he could find.

At around three-thirty in the evening, the doorbell rang. "Could you get that?" America shouted from the depths of his penthouse.

"Yeah, on it!" Canada called back, already knowing who it was.

Francis stood on the other side of the door, a grumbling and decked out in a festive (and ugly) Christmas sweater England next to him. "Ah,  _chéri_ , how nice it is to see you," he murmured, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Canada. There was a soft gagging noise to his left.

"Yeah, you too." Canada kissed him quickly and stepped away. There would be time for more of that later. "And you, England. Come on in." He closed the door after them and led the way to the Christmas tree. "You can put any presents underneath it and then just relax until-"

"What is  _he_  doing here?"

The trio turned around to see America in the doorway, pointing an accusing finger at England.

"I'm not here of my own free will, that's for sure," England snapped back, stepping forward.

An instant later, France had his hand on England's arm and Canada was tugging America back down the hall. The last thing Canada saw was England turning on France with a heavy scowl on his face.

"Canada, what the fuck is he doing here?" America asked once they'd reached one of the guest rooms. "I didn't invite him!"

"Yes, and that was rude," Canada told him flatly. "Look, America. As much as you claim not to like him at the moment, wouldn't you be even a little sad at the thought of England spending _Christmas_  on his own? Because you and I both know that's what would happen." He didn't skirt around laying on the emotion.

"I don't ca-"

"You do. Deep down you do." Canada moved to the door. "Look, just don't talk to him all night, okay? There'll be plenty of other people here." Then he was gone.

When Canada reached the living room again, France was nowhere to be found and England was sitting stiffly on one of the couches. Their presents were under the tree. The quiet nation approached the couch and settled down next to the other man.

"England?"

"I knew coming here was a mistake, but I let the damn frog drag me here anyway." England didn't look away from the window.

"Come on, the party hasn't even started yet," Canada coaxed, giving England's shoulder a little nudge. All he got in return was a wan smile.

"I believe America's made his position about my presence here quite clear." Heaving a sigh, the Brit stood. "If you'll excuse me-"

"He does miss you," Canada said quietly.

"Pardon?" England paused and finally looked down at him.

"America. He misses you. I've been here since the tenth and all he goes on about is how much he misses you."

England's brow furrowed. "Then why is he acting like this? Why won't he just bloody apologize?"

"Pride." Canada rolled his eyes. "Something I'd imagine you know quite well. He won't apologize until you do."

"What? Well he's an idiot." And with that, England stomped off towards the kitchen, leaving Canada sighing heavily on the couch.

* * *

The hours flew by and nations arrived until, by eight in the evening, the party was in full swing. People were gathered in every corner of the living room, dining room, kitchen, and hallways, just chatting and drinking and occasionally grabbing a bite to eat. America seemed to have forgotten his previous bad mood because he was flitting about from one group to the next, chiming in on conversations and making sure there was never a shortage of food. He wanted to make sure there were no arguments and that everyone was having a good time. Everyone except England, that was.

The island nation had settled down in a corner chair half-hidden by the tree and was simply watching the proceedings. Barely anyone approached him, and he had a stony look on his face. Whenever America would enter the room he'd glance at the other nation, but never made a move.

It sure didn't look like America was missing him. England sighed and dropped his face into his hands, absently rubbing at his cheeks and therefore missing the somewhat worried look that America shot at him. After a moment, when he lifted his head again, America was gone from the room. In truth he missed the boy as well, and deeply, but really. He was being ridiculous. Keeping an argument going for the sake of pride.

(England conveniently ignored all the times he'd done the same.)

After another hour and a half of sitting there, he finally decided to leave the chair, if only for a moment so he could make himself a tea. But when he entered the kitchen, he discovered to his chagrin that Alfred was the only one in there, rooting around in the refrigerator for some more food. He quickly spun around and exited again, only to run straight into Canada.

"Sorry lad, didn't see you there-"

"Where are you going?" Canada frowned softly.

"Ah, back to my chair, if it's still free." England tried to sidestep around him, only to find that Canada had a strong grip on his arm.

"Oh no, England." Keeping him there, Canada peered around him and smiled softly when he saw America still focused on the fridge. "I think you should make him a hot chocolate. And say sorry."

"But-" England paused and looked into Canada's eyes.

"You're both pining after each other and it's really just pathetic," Canada said simply.

"Oh..." England groaned softly and let out a breath. "All right. I suppose this has gone on too long, hasn't it? I can barely remember why we were arguing in the first place."

"That's the spirit. Remember, hot chocolate and apology." Canada gave him a pat on the shoulder and vanished down the hallway, presumably in search of France.

Taking a deep breath, England entered the kitchen and quietly started gathering up the necessary materials he would need to make the tea and hot chocolate. Out of the corner of his eye he saw America glance at him, and then continue to ignore him. That hurt more than England would care to admit.

But he ignored his feelings for the moment and quickly made the two drinks. Luckily America had those little packets of ready-made hot chocolate powder that you simply poured hot milk or water over and stirred. A quick look through America's pantry produced marshmallows as well as a small glare from the American himself. What, was America not going to allow him to take three jumbo marshmallows?

Apparently, for just as England plopped them into the hot brown drink, America decisively closed the fridge and started towards the door to the kitchen.

"America, wait."

America paused just before the door, his shoulders stiff. He didn't turn around. "What?"

"I ah..." England padded forward, a mug in each hand. "I made you a hot chocolate."

"Why?"

The question startled the Brit. "Well, I thought you might like one. You know, to keep your energy up."

America finally turned around, his face neutral. He stalked forward, forcing England back until the smaller nation's back hit the counter. A splash of tea overflowed the edge of the cup and landed on England's fingers, and though he winced, he didn't drop either mug. "And why do you care about that?"

"Because I care about you, you stupid boy!" England's voice rose a bit too high and cracked, and the older nation cleared his throat. "Look, America." He took a breath. "I'm sorry."

America looked shocked. "...What?"

"I said I'm sorry. This silence is pointless, and I'd at least like to be back on speaking terms with you." His hands were shaking slightly, and America must have noticed because he moved forward again and took the cups from England's hands. "Ah..."

"I... I'm sorry too, England." America gently brought England's hands together and enveloped them in his own, relishing England's soft gasp of surprise. It was too cute, the way England got flustered by affection sometimes. "I guess I was kinda stupid that day. Maybe."

"If you were, I can't remember what about," England whispered.

America let out a soft chuckle. "You know what? Neither can I." He moved to wrap his arms around England's shoulders and pull the other man close.

England melted into the embrace, letting out a soft breath of relief. Oh, to be back within those strong arms... But there was one small matter- "America, a-are we together again?"

"If you'll take me."

The Brit chuckled. "Of course, you silly boy." He gasped softly as the arms around him tightened, and in the next instant he felt a small kiss pressed to the side of his head.

"I'm glad," America choked out."God, I fucking missed you..."

"Did you miss me? Or did you miss fucking me?" England couldn't help sniping.

Laughing deeply, America gave him another squeeze. "Both," he admitted, then let go of England to pick up the mug of chocolate. He took a sip and sighed contently. "Ah, that's the stuff. Thanks, England."

"No problem, love." England smiled back, reminding himself to thank Canada later. He grasped his own cup of tea and sipped along with America, feeling more at peace than he had all month. "I'm afraid I didn't get you a gift... I wasn't aware I was attending your celebrations until two days ago when the frog forced me onto a plane."

"Neither did I..." America's cheeks reddened softly, but then his face lit up with an idea. "Oh, I know! We'll have two rounds tonight, one with each of us topping! That can be a temporary present, and then I can spend actual Christmas with you in London and we can go get each other shit during the Boxer Day sales!"

"Boxing Day, America." England chuckled and leaned his head on America's shoulder. "But that does sound lovely."

America, in turn, rested his head on England's. "Awesome."

"Would you like to get back to the party?" England asked after a moment.

"Nah, let's just stay here together for a lil bit longer." America grinned down at him, and was rewarded with a small smile stretching across England's lips.

"Just until we finish our drinks," England conceded. "You have a party to host, after all."

"Yeah, yeah. Just drink  _real_  slow." America smiled more and settled contently against the counter. He saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, but dismissed it as someone simply passing by in the hallway. He was too focused on England at the moment to really notice anything else.

And England was looking back at him, a warm light in his eyes. The two of them finished their tea and chocolate much too quickly for either of their tastes, but there was in fact a party going on around them, and the peace of the kitchen could be shattered at any moment. America gently took England's hand in his own, lacing their fingers together, and nodded gently at the door.

"Let's go?"

"Sure."

America, however, paused right in the doorway, looking up quizzically. "Huh, I don't remember putting one there..."

Following his gaze, England saw a sprig of mistletoe neatly attached to the doorframe. "Well. I suppose there's nothing for it but-"

He got not further, America having shut him up gently with a kiss. He turned them so England's back was pressed against the doorframe and kissed him soundly, their lips moving together in perfect rhythm. It was broken after a moment, the both of them panting gently and staring into the other's eyes.

"That was nice..." England whispered, his hand tightening in America's.

"Mmm, it was." America grinned back at him and pecked England's lips once more before stepping back. "C'mon, let's go mingle."

"Heh, all right."

And as they passed a little alcove in the wall, England nodded in thanks to Canada and France, who were in it, trying to hide. Canada nodded back, a small smile on his face, while France pretended to look indifferent and uninvolved.

"What were you looking at?" Alfred asked a few steps later.

"No, nothing." England smiled up at him and pulled him into the living room. "Let's enjoy the rest of the party."


	17. Swing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New York City, late 1920s. Arthur is an Englishman visiting for a few months when he meets a handsome stranger at his local speakeasy.
> 
> So this was a little oneshot request for my friend choclet-chip on tumblr~ They wanted 1920's USUK with a heavy leaning towards swing music! Slang terms are gonna be defined at the bottom~

Arthur didn't know just how much he was attracted to men until he saw the handsome blond American across the dance floor. It was only his second visit to this particular speakeasy, but if the pretty-looking stranger was going to be there then he would have to look into investing more of his time there. And there were no downsides, really. Good bootleg, pretty people, and now this catch.

And what a catch he was. Sky blue eyes sparkled behind thin lenses, blond hair looking as soft as silk bounced around as the man talked, and the undone top button of his shirt revealed a hint of a toned chest. Arthur ran his eyes up and down his figure a couple of times, nodding appreciatively as he took a sip of his scotch. He was almost jealous of the flapper he was talking to, but the short skirt and low front didn't seem to be enticing him too much.

The stranger looked downright bored, actually, looking around and only occasionally nodding along with the woman's words. Then, his eyes flicked over and met Arthur's and the Brit's breath temporarily stopped. Plump lips quirked up into a coy, inviting smile, and it was then that Arthur made his decision.

He knocked back the rest of his drink and set the glass down, then made his way closer along the outer edge of the dance floor. The handsome stranger noticed for he raised an eyebrow, murmured something to his companion, and split from her. He moved to the wall near a corner and leaned against it, and Arthur's mouth dried.

"Hey there, stranger." The blue eyes glinted merrily as the man spoke. "Haven't seen you around here before."

Ah, so he was a frequenter of this bar. "It's my second time," Arthur replied, casually leaning next to him.

"Fair enough." A quick smile revealed a glint of white teeth. What a pretty smile it was. "That's a nice get-up you've got there."

Arthur looked down at his suit for a moment. It wasn't too fancy, but he supposed for Americans it would be a bit different. "Thank you. You're looking quite sharp yourself."

"Aww, thanks. I don't usually get so dolled up, but I had a feeling it was gonna be a special night," he said with a wink. "The name's Alfred. Alfred F. Jones."

"Arthur Kirkland," Arthur replied. He was blushing faintly- was Alfred really flirting with him?- but he was glad to have a name to go with the face. "Pleasure to meet you."

"British, ooh." Alfred's smile stretched wider. "Did ya come here long ago?"

"A couple of months. And I'll only be staying here another six." Arthur decided to try flirting back. "...I suppose it depends on my company how those six months go."

Cocking an eyebrow, Alfred laughed. "Yeah, I guess it does, huh? You got a sheba back home? Or sheik?"

It took Arthur a moment to decipher the slang, but when he did he shook his head. "No, there's no one waiting for me." He tilted his head to the side, and it was his turn to give a small, coy smile. "Why?"

"Just wondering." Alfred gave a casual shrug, trying not to appear too interested.

"I see..." Arthur's smile remained, and he moved ever so closer to Alfred. Everyone around them was too busy to notice.

Arthur, however, took notice of the time when the music shifted from jazz to the newer and rougher style of swing. He also noticed Alfred's hips starting to move ever so gently, and his eyes flicking to the dance floor every so often. The Brit had only heard this music occasionally, but he found he quite liked it. And it seemed Alfred was interested as well.

"It's a pity you're only staying six more months," Alfred suddenly said, gaze resting on Arthur's features once more. "Would have been nice to see your pretty face around here."

Arthur let out a low chuckle. "Well, I could say the same for you. You're starting to make me regret my decision to leave, and I'm not on the boat yet for a few months."

"Aww shucks." Alfred blushed handsomely, though there was still that flirty look in his eyes. "You sure know how to lay on the applesauce, don't ya?"

"How can I not, when there's so much to compliment?" Arthur asked, moving ever closer to him and then walking past him, bumping his hip against Alfred's as he passed. "Would you like to get a drink?"

"Sure would." Alfred grinned more and brushed back up against him as he guided him to the bar. "You payin'?"

"I did ask, didn't I? So my treat."

A few minutes later, they were back in their corner with the drinks. Alfred was looking at the alcohol like it was something sacred, which Arthur found odd since he was pretty sure the American had been drinking beer earlier. More people had flooded out onto the dance floor and Arthur could see Alfred was itching to get out there. Arthur would join him, he just needed more alcohol in his body to loosen up. Luckily though, Alfred was apparently itching to stay by Arthur's side more, instead of abandoning him to find a more eager dance partner. The Brit found that touching.

"Do you know how to dance to this?" Arthur asked after a moment.

Alfred's eyes were gleaming. "I've been here long enough to pick up on a couple of moves. Want me to teach you?"

"Yes, you seem eager to get out there anyway." Arthur found himself smiling back. "Though I must warn you, I'm a bit of a heeler..."

"Aww, that's no problem! By the end of that six months we'll be a regular pair of floorflushers."

Arthur had barely any time to finish his drink after that because in the next moment Alfred had grabbed his hand and was dragging him towards the dancing couples in the middle of the speakeasy. And if anyone thought it odd that two men were dancing together, well, everyone here was drunk or almost drunk, so it didn't matter. Everyone was having a good time.

As he had predicted, Arthur was at first a very poor dancer. But Alfred was patient and eager to teach Arthur, and the almost constant stream of strong alcohol helped loosen up his body. The swing music continued playing on, and it seemed it would be like this until the bar closed. A mere hour after they'd stepped onto the dance floor and Arthur felt confident enough to actually dance with Alfred. He was laughing, body pressed up right against the American's, and it honestly felt like heaven.

Alfred was having a grand old time too, if the joy on his face was anything to go by. He swung Arthur around and dipped him, occasionally even giving him a twirl. His face was covered in sweat and when he leaned in he smelled of alcohol, but to Arthur, that made him even more appealing. He looked...free. He looked like everything Arthur had ever wanted.

By the end of the second hour their clothes were sticking to their bodies, but neither of them wanted to stop, they were so caught up in the music and the atmosphere and each other. Arthur was slowly losing the ability to decipher when the songs changed, but the beat stayed the same so they were able to keep it up. Other people came onto the dance floor, and some of the dancers left, but they two stayed until the speakeasy closed and the band started packing up like the floorflushers Alfred had predicted them to be.

Arthur didn't want to leave Alfred's side, but as they stumbled along the sidewalk he knew he would have to. Alfred's arm was slung over his shoulder and he was pressed against the American's ribs, and he felt wholly content to stay there- and that wasn't just the alcohol talking. All too soon, it seemed, they reached the building where Arthur was renting his small apartment for the duration of his trip.

"Will I see you again?" Alfred's eyes looked almost unnaturally blue in the dim light from the street lamp.

"Will you be at The Bath Club again?"

"If you're there, then every night... Especially if you buy booze. 'M too poor to afford it- the good stuff anyway." Alfred started rambling on about how he came from down in the Dust Bowl area, and his family had had to sell their farm. Most of Alfred's factory work earnings went to them to help them get fed.

It sobered Arthur up a little bit, and he couldn't help empathizing a bit with Alfred. "It's good of you that you help them, Al..." he murmured, reaching out to take Alfred's hand and squeeze it gently.

The action made Alfred glance over at him. The American did a double take and seemed to gaze at Arthur for the very first time. "Yeah... Fuck Arthur, you're so tight..." His eyes flickered across all of Arthur's features and he smiled, satisfied with what his saw.

"A-Am I?" Did Alfred really find him that attractive?

"Yeah..." Smiling, Alfred pressed Arthur up against the door, and at this hour there was no one around to see. "You're so unreal... I want you all to myself..."

"You're drunk, Alfred," Arthur whispered. "Come talk to me when you're not completely bent." He didn't think he could go through a one night stand with Alfred- he wanted the boy, but wanted him genuinely.

"C'mon, don't blow me, Artie..." Alfred pleaded. "Not like this. Can I at least get some cash?" He leaned in gently, only to be stopped by Arthur's hand.

He'd remembered the negative reply just in time. "Bank's closed," he whispered, though there was a small grin on his face.

Alfred looked shocked for a moment at being denied his kiss, though a moment later he burst out laughing. "Oh I like you, Artie! I'll definitely be seeing you around." He smiled broadly and moved Arthur's hand away, lacing their fingers together. "But really? Not even one?" And even though he was almost completely drunk, Alfred managed to pull off some pretty impressive puppy eyes.

Arthur melted- how could he not? "Oh fine, you silly man." And he leaned in to give Alfred a gentle peck on the lips.

He gasped when he found himself pressed more firmly against the door, Alfred practically draped over him and even rubbed their bodies together a little bit. Pretty soon his tongue was also invading Arthur's mouth, though after a moment the Brit was opening his mouth eagerly for it. The kiss was sloppy and drunk but passionate, and Arthur was sad when it ended.

"That was unreal, Artie..." Alfred whispered to him, a smile on his lips as he moved away. "I'll see you at The Bath Club?"

"Yes. Shall we say Friday?"

"Yeah..." Alfred breathed, then with a final kiss he was gone.

Arthur stayed pressed against the door for another few minutes, sighing happily and staring at the faint glimmer of stars. Only the brightest ones were visible, but they still provided a pretty sight amidst the brick. Alfred... Oh that boy. He had a feeling The Bath Club would become a very special place for the both of them. A place full of alcohol and music and dancing and lust and love. Arthur couldn't wait for Friday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it! This story is set around 1927-1928. Alfred and Artie fall in love over those six months and when Arthur leaves for England he takes Alfred with him (and thusly Alfred manages to avoid being hit by the Great Depression too badly). Alfred starts working for a factory in England and sends money over to his family every month, with Arthur pitching in as well because he is from an upper class family and has nothing better to do with his money. Plus he wants it to be put to good use.
> 
> Also, The Bath Club was an actual speakeasy in NYC and was pretty famous for having a dance floor along with the bar. The title of this fic was supposed to be The Bath Club but in the end I wanted to focus more on their relationship and them than the speakeasy.
> 
> bootleg: illegal alcohol  
> flapper: a woman in the 1920s who typically had short hair and wore dresses that revealed more skin than was socially acceptable  
> get-up: outfit  
> dolled up: dressed up  
> sheba: girlfriend  
> shiek: boyfriend  
> applesauce: flattery  
> heeler: poor dancer  
> floorflusher: constant dancer  
> tight: attractive  
> unreal: special  
> bent: intoxicated  
> blow: leave  
> cash: kiss  
> bank's closed: no kissing


	18. Just Taking it Easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a little ficlet for my friend Robin! (choclet-chip on tumblr). They really like middle aged USUK, so here it is!

Arthur Kirkland felt it was perfectly reasonable for him to worry at a time like this. He was 45, and while some would say it wasn't  _too_  old, the Brit knew perfectly well what sort of looks he was getting. The girl serving him was a mere 23, for God's sake. And he'd received enough pitying looks from her for now, thank you very much.

He'd been seated at that little café for about half an hour now, and with each passing moment he was getting more and more convinced that his date wasn't going to show up. At the very strong urging of his friends he'd finally caved and allowed them to make him a profile on a dating site for middle-aged and older people. Which led to this situation, and an empty chair reserved for one Alfred F. Jones. Supposedly.

Call him very old, but Arthur didn't really believe that most people were being truthful on online dating sites. Everyone just wanted to be matched with someone, right? So it was obvious they would...enhance their lives to make them look more interesting. This Alfred person supposedly had worked for NASA for ten years and was an astrophysics professor at some university in the city. He loved cats and dogs and neighborhood barbeques. His pictures showed a blond haired blue eyed man who still had a strong-looking figure, despite his age proclaiming him to be 41. No one should look that good at 41. And no one who looked that good and who had that sort of life should ever be interested in a man like Arthur Kirkland.

Arthur Kirkland, who was small bookstore owner and finger puppeteer by day, lonely old cat man with an unhealthy obsession for romantic comedies by night. There was no way this Alfred would stay longer than a few minutes, if he bothered to show at all.

"Sir, are you ready to order?" the waitress asked him, coming around for the third time. He was sure there was some sarcasm in her voice. 

"No, thank you," Arthur replied crisply, clasping his hands together on his lap. "I'm still waiting on that company."

The girl gave him shifty eyes and glanced to the entrance of the café, but luckily moved away without saying anything. Arthur knew what she was thinking though- poor old soul who got stood up, why did he even get his hopes up?

Five minutes. Arthur decided to give this Alfred five more minutes before he stood up and left to go drown his sorrows in the company of his cats and some nice rum. The clock ticked on and four minutes and fifty-five seconds later Arthur was ready to pick up his coat when there was a commotion in front of the café. He glanced up to see the man from the pictures outside, out of breath and with splotches of soot on his face despite his nice clothes.

Somewhat astonished, Arthur sank back into his seat. He'd only allowed Gilbert to put two photos of him onto the website, so he hoped that Alfred would recognize him. Soon enough though Alfred had made it past the door, a small, sheepish grin on his face, and was looking around. The blue eyes positively lit up when they landed on Arthur, and Alfred easily strode over.

"Hi there! You're Arthur Kirkland, right? Gosh, I'm so sorry I'm late!" Alfred let out in a rush, then scrambled to extend his hand. "I'm Alfred F. Jones!"

Good Lord, this man had a lot of energy. Arthur stood and extended his own hand back to Alfred, a polite smile on his own lips. "I am indeed. To be honest, I wasn't sure if you'd show up in the end."

"What?" Alfred looked offended as he gave Arthur's hand an eager shake. "Pass up going on a date with a handsome guy like you? No way!"

Arthur flushed, happy with the complement. Intentional or not, this man knew how to charm. "Well in that case, let's get seated and start."

"Definitely." Alfred took his seat with that same sunny smile on his face. "I am sorry about being late. We were doing a lab and it kind of...backfired. And there was no way I could go on a date looking like that so I had to run home and clean up..."

One of Arthur's eyebrows shot up, and he shook his head at Alfred's questioning stare. "No, no, you just seem to have missed a spot there."

Alfred blinked. "Where?" He started fussing around, picking up his napkin and waiting for Arthur to point out where he still had the soot. "Haha, damn I thought I was presentable. My brother likes to tell me that I never really grew up so I wanted to prove him wrong with this date because you seem like a really nice and grown up and proper guy but-"

"Alfred." Arthur couldn't help a chuckle from escaping his mouth. This man was endearing and entertaining and Arthur only hoped that it went well. "It's fine, I can get it for you."

"Are you sure?" The American hesitantly lowered his napkin.

"Well, yes. It's the date-y thing to do, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah! I hadn't thought of that." Grinning once more, Alfred scooted his chair around a little so Arthur would have access to his face.

As Arthur leaned forwards, he felt something shift in the atmosphere between them. Maybe it was because this was a more intimate gesture, but Arthur thought that everything had become a touch more serious now. With permission he removed Alfred's glasses, and his breath caught in his throat a little when he looked clearly into the other man's bright blue eyes. They crinkled around the edges as Alfred smiled, and a faint blush rose to his face. What a romantic he was, practically getting lost in a pair of nice irises.

"Is everything okay, Arthur?" Alfred asked. There was innocent questioning on his face, but his mouth curled into a tiny smirk.

"I'm..." Arthur hurriedly dropped his gaze and froze once he saw that smirk. Oh, so that's what it was. Of course Alfred knew what sort of effect he had over people. He cleared his throat. "I'm fine."

"Okay, good."

With a small huff, Arthur got around to actually cleaning Alfred's face off. The largest streak of soot was down the American's right cheek, but he had a few more around his chin and even a tiny dash on his forehead. Arthur was interested to know what sort of lab he and presumably his class had been doing. Once all of the soot was gone, Arthur leaned back in his seat and handed Alfred his glasses back.

"I don't want to poke your eye out by trying to put them on myself," he explained, a small smile playing around his mouth. "What a fantastic start to a date that would be."

Alfred let loose a hearty laugh. "Right you are! I had that happen once- luckily they just poked the corner of my eye, and lightly, but that's still not something I want to repeat." He slid the glasses back onto his nose and moved back to his previous position. "Did you take a look at the menu yet?"

"No, I was waiting for you," Arthur replied. "I think the waitress was getting close to kicking me out, if I'm honest."

"Oh." Alfred bit his lip a little, and Arthur marveled at how  _young_  he could look. He looked to be barely 35, while he himself already had a few streaks of silver in his hair.

"Alfred, it's fine." Arthur reached a hand across the table to take hold of Alfred's and give it a comforting squeeze. "I daresay it was worth the wait."

It had the desired effect; Alfred immediately brightened and squeezed back. "Really? Well sweet, let's start this date for real."

"Oh?" Arthur's eyebrow rose again. "So everything up to this point wasn't for real?"

"Well-" Alfred paused. "You just seem like the kind of guy that wants everything to be perfect."

Arthur hummed. "That is true. But. I also find it quite...endearing that you seem to be so nervous." At least, he hoped he was reading Alfred right.

"Oh God am I!" Alfred nodded vehemently. "Though then again who wouldn't be? You're so cool and collected and cute- Anyone would be intimidated!"

"Oh stop flattering me." Arthur had to duck his head a bit from embarrassment. There was a smile on his face, though, and he quickly hid behind the menu.

Alfred chuckled to himself. Cute, well-dressed  _and_  easily flustered? What a catch! He had been nervous that Arthur would find his somewhat childish personality annoying, but from the looks of it the Brit was charmed. He smiled happily as he skimmed the menu. "Have you eaten here before?"

"A few times," Arthur replied. "But never on a date."

"I'm honored." Alfred gave an easy smile. "So what would you recommend?"

About half an hour later, after more easy banter, they both had their food. Alfred had ordered some mac n' cheese, claiming that one was never too old to enjoy the cheesy pasta, while Arthur was digging into a nice, clean wrap. The both of them were much more relaxed by that point, and Alfred was in the middle of recounting some of his favorite stories from his astrophysics lab when Arthur laughed so loudly that the waitress gave them a dirty glance.

"Oh Lord-" He tried to unsuccessfully stifle his laughs. It took another three minutes until he could breathe properly. "Goodness, I can't catch a break with that waitress today."

"Heh, at least she can't kick you out for loitering now," Alfred offered, his own eyes twinkling with mirth.

"True. But she can kick  _us_  out for rowdiness." Arthur sighed and chuckled softly. "But I needed that laughter. Thank you."

"No problem." Alfred's smile widened. "I got to have the pleasure of seeing your face like that, so I guess it's a win-win situation."

Arthur almost choked on a laugh and immediately hid half of his face behind a hand. "Seeing my face like what?"

"So happy. Now c'mere, don't hide that." Reaching out, Alfred gently pried the hand away. "There we go." He tilted his head in thought for a moment. "You know, I bet you could be like a hundred years old and you're still gonna look really good."

"Oh, really now?" Another chuckle slipped from Arthur's mouth. The hand in Alfred's twisted around, and he lightly laced their fingers together. Happy when Alfred didn't pull away, the Brit only tightened his grip. "Are you trying to flatter me again, Jones?"

"And if I am?"

"Well then I would be flattered."

"Well then I would have achieved my goal." Alfred moved his hand away so he could continue eating. "So tell me more about yourself. I hear you're the premier finger puppeteer in the city." Seeing Arthur flush again made the warmth blooming in his chest only blossom more.

"I- I wouldn't go so far as to say premier..." Arthur mumbled modestly. He raised his eyes to meet Alfred's, and the look on the younger man's face was enough to send heat shooting through his veins. "But the children like it, and I suppose that's what matters."

"Yeah." Alfred grinned. "I'll have to stop by for a show sometime. It's in your bookshop, right?"

"Yes. And you? For a show?" Arthur smiled at the thought. "Aren't you just a tad too old?"

Alfred was grinning right back up at him. "Hey. No one is ever too old to enjoy a good finger puppet show. Besides, I can take my niece with me. My brother married this German girl, see, and I secretly think their little girl, Johanna, likes me more." He winked conspiratorially, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Of course she does. But I'm glad that you'll stop by. It's at-"

"I uhh, already know where it is."

Arthur paused. "You do?"

"Yeah." Alfred grinned a bit. "I might have looked it up and gone past it yesterday morning on my way to classes. I didn't see you in it, which was a bit of a bummer, but it looks real neat!"

Embarrassed that Alfred had already seen it but pleased that he seemed to like it, Arthur nodded. "I'm very proud of it," he said softly. "I started it almost from scratch about fifteen years ago."

"Really? It's so popular! It's like it was always there."

"I graduated with a double major in Business and Literature, so it seemed like the proper direction for me to go in." The Brit flushed more with pride at the compliments.

"I'll say it was." Alfred stabbed down with his fork to get more food and flinched when he heard the screech of metal on bowl. He blinked, surprised that he had finished the food without realizing, then grinned when he saw Arthur was finished as well. "Hey, what do you say we blow this popsicle stand and take a nice walk?" he offered.

"Hmm, that would be lovely." Arthur was in the process of taking out his wallet when Alfred's hand clamped down over his wrist.

"I don't think so. I invited you out, so I pay."

"A-Alfred, please-"

"Nope! You won't change my mind." Alfred stared back evenly at Arthur, and grinned when the Brit was forced to lower his gaze. "Hey, how about you pay for it next time?"

Arthur's heart jumped. "There's going to be a next time?"

"Well, I was hoping there would be." Alfred gave a hopeful smile.

"Yes!" Arthur quickly cleared his throat, embarrassed by his outburst. "I mean- I'd love that, Alfred."

"I'm glad."

The bill was quickly paid, and much to the relief of the waitress, the two of them were soon out of the café. It was gradually getting darker, and the various lights were coming on. They walked side by side, with Alfred's hand inching ever closer to Arthur's. After a while, Arthur noticed it and smiled. He reached out and grasped the hand firmly. Alfred stiffened beside him, then peered down at the Brit and huffed out a laugh.

"I don't mind," Arthur told him, smiling gently back.

"I know. Just wanted to take it easy."

Taking it easy... Arthur liked the sound of that. "This is easy enough, no?"

"It is. I like it." Alfred gave his hand a little squeeze.

Arthur could honestly say that he was happy as they wandered through the streets, simply talking. He didn't like admitting it, but maybe he did owe Gilbert a thank you for putting up the profile. Alfred was charming and smart and kind, and Arthur could really picture himself spending the rest of his life with the American. Obviously it was too early to tell for sure, but from the way Alfred would occasionally give his hand a little squeeze, they had a pretty good chance for happiness together.


	19. Little Boy in a Tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this came to me late late one night while I was flipping through Rockets' Anthem book.

There was once a little boy trapped in a tower. His name was Arthur. That was all he knew. He didn't know how he got there, or why, only his name and that he couldn't leave. There were no doors in that tower, and a jump from the window would surely kill him. He didn't try. It was lonely for him, but deep in the forest that he was, no one ever came around to see him.

The tower was old. About fifteen meters high, the stones large and covered in moss around the base. There was only one window, but it was big and facing north. That ensured Arthur got plenty of sunlight, but the sun never really shone directly into his room. The tower was situated in a small clearing in the forest, with about ten meters from the base of the tower to the forest on all sides. Scattered around the edge of the forest were small, smooth stones, but Arthur had no idea what they were there for or what they did, and after a few years he lost interest in finding out.

It was also a magic tower that he was trapped in. The magic gave him food and water and books, it taught him to read and write and speak, but it wouldn't let him out. Arthur had long ago given up crying and begging the air for release. He had imaginary friends, unicorns and fairies and even little dragons that he played with, but he longed for a real friend. A human friend. Still, he was alone.

When he was nine, his pleas were answered. Arthur woke up one morning to a shout of surprise. A shout that had come from outside the tower.

"Whoa! What is this place?"

Quickly rushing to the window corner, Arthur peeked out. Another little boy was stood in the grass at the base of the tower, eyes so wide as he looked up that Arthur could see they were a brilliant blue. As he watched, the strange boy tapped at the stones of the tower, then walked around the base to see if there was a door. Once he vanished from view Arthur had to stifle a cry, so afraid he was that this new boy would just wander off. After all, the tower was seemingly empty, so who would stick around for long?

But a couple of moments later, the blue-eyed boy reappeared from the other direction of the tower and stopped again where he had started from. He looked up again.

"Hello? Is anyone friendly home? I don't wanna get eaten!"

Arthur had to stifle a giggle at the words. Eaten? Eaten by who? He certainly wouldn't eat this boy! "I'm here!" he called back, and leaned out the window so he could be seen.

The other boy's eyes widened even more at the sudden face. "Whoa- Do you live here?"

"Yes!"

"But-" His brow furrowed and he looked around again. "But there's no door! How do you come out?"

Arthur's face fell. "...I don't."

"What do you mean you don't? You gotta come out! I wanna play with you!"

"You said it. There's no door. I'm stuck here. I'm sorry I can't play with you..."

"Oh." The other boy looked stumped for a moment. His face crinkled up as he thought, trying to find a problem to this situation. "I'm Alfred!" he called up again a couple of minutes later. "And I'm gonna get you out of there!"

The conviction in Alfred's voice almost made Arthur believe him. But there was no way out. He had tried everything. Or, everything that a nine year old boy could. His expression crumpled, and he shook his head. "You can't."

Alfred waved the words away. "What's your name?"

"Arthur."

"I'm gonna get you out, Arthur! You'll see!"

Arthur couldn't help scoffing at that. "You can't! How old are you, even?"

"I'm eight! And a half! And I'm lost! But I'll make it so you can come down and play with me!"

"How can you do that if you're lost?" Arthur tilted his head to the side, grinning when Alfred mirrored his expression.

"I'm gonna find a way out! And then find a way to help you!"

Thinking about the situation, Arthur nodded. "I can help you with that!"

Before Alfred could question him, he ran away from his window and started digging through an old toy chest of his. Every toy the magic had given him he kept in there. After a few minutes of rooting around, he found what he was looking for. A stick of magic chalk. He had drawn lots of things in chalk a few years ago, and he knew the stick was magic because the drawings never faded, no matter how hard he tried to scrub them away to make room for new ones. As he was trotting back to the window, his eyes fell to a new object on his night table. A bag of seeds sat there that definitely hadn't been there before. Attached to the bag was a slip of paper with black scrawls on top of it. Arthur's eyes widened when he read them. He quickly copied them down to another piece of paper before picking the seeds up and taking them to the windowsill with him.

"Took you long enough!" Alfred told him. He sat on the grass, a pile of torn-up leaves and grass stems on his lap.

"I was getting some things!"

"Some things?

"Yes! For you!" Arthur held out the piece of chalk out so Alfred could see. "Please, magic, show him the way home and back here. Please, please, I want a friend..." He saw the chalk shine for a moment and sighed with relief. The magic would help him with this little thing, at least.

The chalk dropped from his fingers, landing at Alfred's feet. The younger boy picked it up, examining it and drawing a mark on the tower. It shone out a brilliant white, and the rest of the chalk started glowing again. The blue eyes widened and followed the white light when it zipped form his hands and into the forest. And suddenly, a path was highlighted for him. A path from the tower to his home a couple of miles away.

"What was that?" he asked, voice breathless and eyes still wide. They shot back up to Arthur's grinning face up in the window.

"Magic!"

"Magic?"

"Yeah! It gives me food and water and books and chalk! Oh, and it gave me this!" Arthur dropped down the bag of seeds next.

It landed in nearly the same spot as the chalk, and the bag stayed firmly closed. Alfred picked it up and looked at the paper. Then he opened the bag and took out a fistful of the seeds. He allowed them to run through his fingers and back into the leather before looking up. His fingers clutched the paper again.

"What's this say? I can't read..."

"Oh!" Arthur rushed back and grabbed the copied slip of paper, along with some of the books he had learned with. "It says 'Rose Seeds. The more love and care you put into them, the bigger the rose bush will grow.' Or something like that. And here!" He tipped the books over the edge as well and watched them thump at Alfred's feet. "So you can read!"

Alfred's eyes widened when he saw the books, and he touched their covers reverently. "I- I can have these? Really?" They would become precious to him.

"Yes! The magic can make me more if I need them!"

Nodding, Alfred looked at the rose seeds again. He gripped the bag in his hand with a wide grin. "I'm gonna give these all my love and care!" he declared. "They're gonna grow to the sky and I'm gonna get you out of there!"

As Arthur looked on with hope-filled, shining eyes, he knelt down in the earth at the base of the tower. Already supple fingers dug enthusiastically through the dirt and soon enough had a hole big enough for all the seeds. The bag was upended into the hole, and Alfred tossed it aside to cover the seeds up almost in a frenzy. When he was done he sat back, watching intently and expecting the rose bush to grow right then and there.

"Alfred!" Arthur cried down, giggling again. "It takes time!"

"Oh." Alfred looked up at him, a small grin spreading on his dirt-streaked face when he saw Arthur's own. There was already a part of him that had tied itself to the trapped boy. That part yearned to see Arthur free, to be able to be close to the other boy and really play with him. "I'll come back then! I don't know when, but whenever I can! I won't leave you, Arthur!"

Arthur nodded, glad that Alfred was so far down that he couldn't see the tears shimmering in his eyes. "I know. You should go home now!"

"I will! But I'll be back for you, Arthur! I promise I'll get you out of there!"

* * *

Years passed. Eight of them. True to his word, Alfred never left Arthur for more than a week. Though they were stuck on different levels, they talked almost constantly and Arthur would occasionally give Alfred small trinkets or new books. The blue-eyed boy had a whole trunk at home full of them. His mother, though they were poor, never took anything away from him and after a while stopped questioning where he got everything. He treasured all he got from Arthur as though it was the most precious thing on Earth, same as he did with Arthur himself.

Alfred's attraction to Arthur changed, though he never realized that it was now edging towards romantic, and that was part of the problem with the rose bush. It had grown to a normal, healthy size with the bond of friendship that had developed between them, but that simply wasn't enough. It hadn't grown any taller in a couple of years now, and though it produced some of the most beautiful roses Alfred had ever seen, the flowers wouldn't get Arthur down.

The standstill was starting to crack through Arthur's hopes. He had been happy, so happy that there was progress and that there was even the slimmest chance that he could get free, but now that chance had all but vanished. He had let hope have too strong a hold in him, and now he was paying the price.

"It's useless!" he screamed at Alfred one morning, seventeen and fed up with everything. "There's nothing to be done! I'm never leaving!" Tears flowed down his face, and after another few seconds of staring at Alfred, he vanished into the tower and slammed the shutters closed.

Alfred was left in shock for a few moments. When he finally snapped out of it, there was silence. "A-Artie?" he called up tentatively. No answer.

The anguish on Arthur's face was burned into his mind. Alfred never wanted to see it again. He wanted to take it away, make sure Arthur never felt that way before. He wanted to show Arthur the world, take him places, introduce him to his mother and brother and everyone else he knew in their town. His arms ached at the thought of finally holding Arthur in them, giving him a big hug because damnit, he deserved that much and more after seventeen years cooped up in a tower. Alfred wanted to, no, needed to be the person to give Arthur that. He wanted to keep Arthur safe and make him happy, show him all the joys of life, hold him and never let go- Oh.

Alfred's cheeks burned red. He remembered how his mother had spoken about his father, and how from her words he knew she had loved him very much before his death. The same thoughts were running through his mind now. His eyes fell to the rose bushes surrounding the tower and he jolted. Love. Love, the paper had said. Love and care would make the roses grow. He had given them care, but without love they could never grow high enough.

Hands trembling, Alfred knelt before the bushes and took one of the fat flowers into his palms. "Please..." he whispered. "Please grow." He tried to put as much of the feelings inside of him into the flower. "I need Arthur. I need to hold him. I need to show him happiness. I- I think I might love him. I want to be with him. Please, magic, please..."

Nothing happened.

Defeated, Alfred gave the rose a soft squeeze and shuffled away. He had really thought that with this new revelation the bushes would just spring up. He called for Arthur again, but there was no answer. He wiped away his tears as he left.

That night, the rose bushes glowed pink.

The effect of Alfred's words became cumulative after that. Each time the boy returned, the roses were higher. Arthur, however, wasn't convinced. Alfred never told him of his feelings, and though his heart leapt whenever he heard Alfred calling his name, Arthur's pessimism never allowed him much hope. The rose bushes would stop growing again soon, and he would die in that tower while never having stepped foot on the earth.

* * *

"Arthur."

The word surprised him, and he stiffened from his seat on the bed. That was Alfred's voice. Except it was said softly, and there was no way Alfred could be in his room. So his mind was playing tricks on him now...

"Arthur, turn around." The voice was deep now, and at eighteen, Alfred had much matured. He was a handsome boy, with a handsome body that turned heads, but he had eyes for one person only.

Slowly, Arthur turned around. Alfred sat on the windowsill, legs swinging inside and a small smile on his face. He gasped. Roses and rose bush branches surrounded the outside of the window. It had really grown that high. "A-Alfred?" he breathed out, standing and walking around the bed towards his friend.

Alfred stood as well, meeting him halfway across the floor and crushing him to his chest in a tight hug. His nose was buried in the crook of Arthur's neck, and he breathed in the scent deeply. "Arthur..." he whispered, and his voice was hoarse.

The green-eyed man was in shock. Eventually he managed to bring his arms around Alfred's torso in return and cling to him tightly. "A-Alfred... Oh God, Alfred..."

Finally pulling back a bit, Alfred nudged his nose against Arthur's temple. He closed his eyes, content to simply stand there and soak in the feeling.

"But how?"

"Love, Artie. The roses just needed to feel some love."

Arthur's eyes blew wide, and his breath came in short bursts. He only just suppressed a shiver when Alfred's voice sounded right in his ear.

"Arthur. Can I kiss you?"

The elder could only nod. Alfred cupped Arthur's cheeks in his warm, big hands and held him softly in place as he leaned in. Both of them melted into the kiss, eyes sliding shut and bodies moving closer together. In that moment, they were lost to the world and lost in each other. But they had found themselves, and Alfred had finally found a way to Arthur. When they broke apart, Alfred rested his forehead against Arthur's and smiled.

"Arthur?"

"Mmm?"

"I told you I'd do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much sap. And it could probably be longer/more detailed, too. But I figured I should post something to let you guys know I'm alive. University's just been a whirl and I've kind of lost a lot of motivation. I'm hoping that improves, soon. There are still so many things I want to write... Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed this!
> 
> Edit June 12, 2017: It's time I brought this collection to a close. Any new short stories and drabbles will be part of a new one.


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